Walking Dead 1. Only A Retard Would Do That

_**Author's Note: **__Hello all! :) First of all, of course, a disclaimer. I do not own the Walking Dead universe or any of its characters :) Second, a fair warning. English is not my first... nor is it my second language, so I will apologize in advance if I unintentionally butcher it :( With that said, please feel free to shoot me a message if I do make any glaring mistakes, and I'll fix 'em for ya. Thirdly, I am VERY new to the fanfic world, and this would be one of my first attempts at writing :))) I AM EXCITED about it, but also a little terrified, but I just wanna say, well... Thank you for joining me in this journey, and I hope you enjoy this story of our very yummy redneck, that is Daryl Dixon._

_The story takes place sometime after the awful fucktastrophe in the prison caused by douchebag Andrew, causing the death of both Lori and T-Dog. Hope ya watched enough TWD that I didn't spoil ya on that one :P_

* * *

**CHAPTER I**

**Only A Retard Would Do That**

* * *

She couldn't believe this was the way she was going to die, stuck in a heavy metal doorway, half her body in relative safety, and half, just dangling there to feed at least twenty walkers in the next sixty seconds. She couldn't pull back in. Her foot outside had managed to smash into a crate or something. She cursed, kicked and pushed, trying to nudge the barricaded door just a bit more to accommodate her already small frame. She had to get out of the infested building. It wasn't a genius idea in the first place, but she just thought she could pull off waltzing into that shopping center with only her knives and an unloaded gun. It was a desperate situation, and well, she'd almost pulled it off, anyway. If only this fire exit wasn't barricaded from the outside!

The walkers were closing in, hungry and growling, and the smell of death they carried quickened her already adrenaline-pumped blood. With one hand clutching on her long tanto knife, she expertly sliced the closest one across its head before it could take a bite out of her. She pushed desperately on the door once more as she calculated the mere seconds she had before the other geeks came at her. She alternated between pushing and stabbing and kicking, until finally, the door inched open with a screech, and her heart almost jumped as the pressure from her door-constricted chest came loose. She could still survive this, and a wicked smile escaped her lips despite the uncertainty she was still in.

She was wiggling her way out the door to freedom, her head almost out into the sunlight, when suddenly a loud crash came from above her, followed by a blinding pain on her side and over her belly.

"Goddammit! Fuuck! Fuck! Fuck you, door!" She cried, tears rushing to her eyes. She rarely cusses out loud. But this certainly was a fuck moment. Something infernal fell on her from the stupid barricade outside, and she couldn't see because she was still cleaved in between that godforsaken fire exit.

She weakened momentarily at the pain coursing through her body, and when she stopped shaking, she felt something warm spread over her skin. She was bleeding. _Aw, her day just keeps getting better and better!  
_  
Her head swam, and her tear-drenched eyes rolled to the back of her head. Her mind blanked, and she didn't see the walker that was already right in front of her face. She only realized it when she smelled its decaying breath so strongly that she almost tasted it in her own mouth. She tensed instantly and as quickly as she could, she swung her tanto knife blindly in front of her, and just in time too. She felt the knife sink into something soft and bony, and the walker fell on her feet with a dull thud.

She shook her head in a desperate attempt to keep focus, and for one final time, wedged herself through the tight opening of the exit and finally succeeded. The brightness of the noonday sun blinded her. The groans of walkers from where she just came from deafened her ears. For a moment, she just sat there, pressing her back against the door, pinning flailing undead arms against the doorframe. She panted and clutched at the huge, clean gash on her belly.

When her breath finally steadied, she took in her surroundings. She was in an alley behind the shopping center, thankfully clear of walkers, and a cargo truck had ran itself through it and tipped over, spilling the metal panes it carried, and causing the blockage of the exit door, and causing the cut on her belly (which hurt like hell). She dislodged her foot from the wooden box she'd stepped into, and started to assess the damages she'd received from today's really fucked up escapade.

Her foot was bleeding, but it wasn't serious. It was the laceration on her side that needed urgent attention. She looked around for her backpack full of supplies, and remembered it was still inside with the walkers, and she almost laughed. She had bandages and antibiotics, and a whole fucking store in that huge-ass bag. It's ironic, how because of collecting those supplies, she now needed them to the point of death. She snorted as she thought about how the hell she was going to carry that sack around while she was already dying. She wondered how the idea rang in her head as logical when she had thought up the whole thing.

She crouched down and snaked her hand through the floor, back into the fire exit door, hoping to the heavens that it comes out un-gnawed, if it comes out at all. She thanked the heavens when she easily found her pack, quickly pulling it out, but as she suspected, she was having trouble getting it out of that blasted door. She tilted the bag in different directions, and the commotion attracted the walkers, and soon their clawing hands dipped down to grab hers.

It was quick as lightning. She didn't even see it happen, but just as the bag sprang out of the door to join her, a set of fingernails had dug into the flesh of her arm, and three angry, streaks of red, lined her skin. She had been scratched. _Confound it all!_

For a moment there, she had the mind to get back into that door and let all hell break loose, find the motherfucker who scratched her, and dice it up to a million pieces and feed it to the birds. But as it were, she was already losing a lot of blood from the cut on her belly and now she had an impending horror of a fever to worry about. Grudgingly, she decided, her health comes first.

She rummaged through her hiking backpack and took out a roll of bandages, hastily wrapping the white material around her stomach as tightly as she could. She figured she would need to superglue the wound or stitch it up to really stop the bleeding, but she really already ran out of super glue and didn't have any threads or needles, although she remembers where she could get some of the latter, and it wasn't far away. Her foot doesn't really need any special attention, and the scratches on her arm, she really couldn't do anything about but deluge them in the only antiseptic she had.

When she finished with her first aids, she stood and scampered away from the alley, dragging her hiking backpack behind her with great difficulty. She tried putting it on her back, but the sling kept bothering her wound. Suddenly, her head snapped sideways to a shopping cart parked there, and an idea formed in her head. She groaned as she tipped the cart over to empty it of the cans of powdered milk it carried. She wouldn't really need those. Baby milk. _God knows if there are even babies alive in the world today._ She placed her forty-pound bag in the cart and started pushing.

_"Yep, you can't fuck me up enough, apocalypse,"_ she muttered proudly to herself as she pushed on her shopping cart with one hand, and embraced her tanto knife in the other, ready to cut the brains out of any walker who stood in her way.

oOOo

* * *

Daryl was on a supply run with Glenn. Little Ass-kicker needed more sustenance, more milk. He didn't know babies could consume so much in so little time, but he wasn't about to let her go hungry even for another minute. _Not her._

He walked silently, bringing up the rear as Glenn led the way towards a drugstore just around the corner. Thankfully, the street was fairly clear of walkers, probably because of the huge pile of cars blocking the road ahead.

Glenn kicked the door open. There were two geek stragglers that perked up at the smell of fresh humans, but Daryl's arrows easily found their way into their brains before they could even make a step.

"Looks like we ain't th' first ones here," Daryl groaned as he pulled out his arrows from the carcasses, finally stiff as the dead should be. "Find anythin'?" he asked Glenn who had quickly found himself shuffling through the almost-emptied shelves.

"Still looking," Glenn answered.

Daryl made his way to the other side of the store and started picking up boxes and bottles himself, tossing them aside when he decided he didn't know what they were or what they were for. He found some baby vitamins, and that brought about a wide grin on his mouth. He was actually ecstatic about it, enough that he bounced on the balls of his feet as he stashed all five bottles of them inside his pack.

He moved to the other aisle, his brow raising at the abundance of condoms stacked there. He picked up three boxes and walked over to where Glenn was.

"You're welcome," he said as he dumped the condoms into Glenn's shopping basket.

"Is it just a little weird that you know the kind of condoms I use?" Glenn turned around with an incredulous stare.

"Ain't like I ain't seeing empty boxes of these scattered 'round the prison," answered Daryl with a shrug.

"Are you ever discreet? Ever?" asked Glenn as he picked up a few other things from the medicine cabinet.

"An' you sayin' you are?" he quipped.

"Whatever," Glenn threw out his hands, then with a pause, added, "Well, aren't you... taking some for yourself?"

"What for?" snorted the redneck. "Ain't like I'll be getting laid anytime soon, as far as I'm concerned. See me raidin' any bars lately, gettin' wasted, pickin' up girls for one night stands? Yeah, didn't think so."

"Geez... just asking."

"Ain't the right questions. And besides, those ultrathins ain't gonna fit anyways." He added, now trying to suppress a smirk that was starting to spread across his face.

"Seriously. I don't know if I should feel sorry for you right now, or despise you," Glenn walked past him, rolling his eyes. "And I don't even know if I should feel sorry for Carol..." he added, then grimaced, as if he had said something he immediately regretted.

"Excuse me?" Daryl turned around to face him.

"Nothing." Glenn turned around the other direction and started walking away.

"We ain't like that," Daryl walked after him.

"If that's what you call it," answered Glenn.

"Okay, are we done here?" Daryl felt his temper rising, and his Southern drawl came out thick.

Glenn sighed, then turned around. "Yes. Yes we are. And... There's no formula here either. Find anything?" He cleared his throat.

"Baby vitamins, trail mix, aspirin, no milk."

"So... what now?"

"We still got some daylight... look aroun' some more, " Daryl suggested, his mind focused once more on Little Ass Kicker.

"We've been through everywhere except that shopping center over there," Glenn pointed at a distant building down the hill, over the blockade of car wreckage, its wide parking lot, heavily dotted with walkers. "See there? That's a supermarket at the side. There's a good chance there's milk."

"Hmm," Daryl contemplated. He pulled out a pair of binoculars from his pack and perused said building. He shook his head. "Too many of 'em damn walkers," he decided, passing the binoculars to Glenn who took his turn to investigate. Glenn heaved a defeated sigh as he took in the sight.

"Damn," Glenn agreed.

"Only a retard'd charge inta that shit-hole, swarmin' with geeks," Daryl scoffed as he turned his back, and started walking the way they came. "We'll drive to the next town and..."

"Holy mother of god," Glenn muttered breathily. He was still peering through the binoculars.

Daryl looked back at him over his shoulders. "What?"

Glenn waved his hand frantically at Daryl, calling him over. Daryl trudged back to his side and snatched the binoculars from Glenn.

"Over there," Glenn pointed. "Tell me I saw what I just saw."

Daryl narrowed his steely blue eyes to where Glenn pointed before he put the binoculars in front of him. "Son of a bitch," Daryl whispered, thick with the accent of the south. "It's a fuckin' retard."

* * *

_**I personally don't mind Daryl Dixon calling me a retard as long as he's got his eyes on me...**_


	2. A Rescue Gone Bad

_**Author's Note: **__Thanks for tuning in! Here comes chapter two~!_

* * *

**CHAPTER II**

**A Rescue Gone Bad**

* * *

Heated words were exchanged between the redneck and the Asian before they came into a decision of what to do. They didn't even realize they were arguing while agreeing with each other all at the same time. They both knew it was suicide to go in there and try to save the idiot, but they both knew they couldn't just stand there and watch the carnage happen, especially when Glenn discovered the idiot was a girl.

"Daryl, I think she's alone," Glenn panted over the binocular as they both ran down the hill. "And I think... she's just a kid." That made Daryl's blood boil._ A child. A girl. Alone. In the middle of all this chaos._ Thoughts of Sophia swam in his head. _Hell no. Not another child dying, not if he could help it._

"Dammit! She best stay alive til we git t'her!" Daryl growled, attacking the few walkers that came at them.

"She just went inside a building. She's limping, I think she's hurt... Daryl, we may not make it in time..." Glenn trailed, but didn't stop running. They were just a few yards away from the building she'd just went into.

* * *

This was one of the worst days of her apocalyptic life, for sure. She'd already left her cart with her backpack of supplies a block away to save her own skin, smashing it against the wave of geeks that just keeps coming and coming. She'd just have to go back for it later, if she even lived through the day. There was just too many of them. That parking lot wasn't that swarmed when she first went in there. _Dammit_. But at least, she'd found her way into the tailor shop and it looks fairly secure as of the moment.

She quickly scrambled for threads and needles, and slumped behind the counter. She pushed her already torn shirt up her torso and cut the red-soaked bandages that bound her belly. Her eyes fluttered at the sharp pang on her wound as she pulled the bandages away. With shaky hands, she managed to thread the needle, wipe some of the blood away from the cut, and slowly sink the needle under her skin. Her teeth gritted as she struggled through the first few stitches. She stopped, and quickly cut up half her shirt, bunched it up, and stuffed it in her mouth before she resumed. Once or twice she passes out of consciousness, but only for a few seconds, and she willed herself to get through the ordeal, groaning and screaming through the fabric in her mouth. _Halfway there_.

* * *

Five. Ten. Twenty. Thirty. How many more did they have to kill before they ran out? Both him and Glenn were using their knives now, and they were exhausted from running a couple hundred yards and killing the seemingly endless stream of men-eating freaks who stood in their way.

They finally made it to the back of the building where the girl went into, just thankful that that side didn't have any geeks zombying around, and cautiously, they slipped into an open window and perked up for any welcoming danger.

Daryl reloaded his crossbow and slowly paced the room filled with rolls of dusty, colorful fabric. No sign of the girl. He opened a door and found a staircase, and motioned for Glenn to take the upstairs. Glenn nodded and carefully made his way up.

Daryl was moving towards the front of the store when he heard the groaning. Sounded like a walker, but also sounded like it was alone. _Damn._ _Did the girl just turn_? Daryl leaned against the wall, judging the exact location where the groaning was coming from. He whirled around and aimed his crossbow at the groaning creature slumped on the floor.

* * *

Just three more stitches or four, and she's good to go. She was ready to just pass out. Maybe she would. She could care less if she did. She'll just have to spend the night here, and see if in the morning, she'd still wake up. Last two stitches, when suddenly she heard a boot on the floor and a clicking rattle over her head.

"Sweet mother o' god," A voice with a southern drawl registered in her ears, but it took time for her eyes to focus on the figure in front of her. When she did, her eyes widened at the tip of an arrow pointed straight at her, and then at the steely blue eyes piercing her own as they peered down through the crossbow. Her instincts kicked in and told her to reach for her knife and throw.

* * *

Daryl didn't lower his weapon, but he inched forwards a little bit to take a better look at her. He looked her up and down, studying her closely. It's a girl, and bleeding all over with wide, unblinking dark eyes, not exactly afraid, but he couldn't put his finger on it. One of her tiny hands held something above her bleeding stomach. A needle? Good Lord, was she stitching herself up? She was smothered in blood, both dry and fresh. Her mouth was stuffed with a filthy fabric, the color of her torn shirt. He also noticed her pants rolled up with cuts on her calf. And... there were scratches on her other arm- her arm that was inching its way towards a long knife.

"Don't," Daryl warned sharply, raising his crossbow to attention, and her hand stilled. "Hands away from th' knife, I ain't gonna hurt ya," he said now as kindly as he knew how, and her hand retreated slowly.

"Atta girl..."

Her chest was heaving up and down as she breathed heavily through her nose, her small body arching and contracting in what looks like intense pain, and his eyes lingered on the creamy flesh of her torso where it isn't splattered in red. He quickly brought his eyes up her face, seeing her pleading with her eyes.

"We're here t'help ya. Can ya stand?" Daryl swallowed and lowered his crossbow, and moved closer to where she sat. She tensed, so he stopped in between his steps. She winced, and blood trickled from where she was sewing herself up.

"I'll help ya up, a'right? But we gotta hurry," Daryl said, and attempted to go near her again. Suddenly, her eyes shot wide, and her hand reached quickly for her knife.

"Shit! Don't!" Daryl yelled raising his crossbow, but before he could blink, the knife was already flying in his direction, swishing and missing his head by a mere inch, taking his breath away. The knife didn't hit him, but he found himself teetering out of balance, and that was when he heard a grunt just behind him, and in a second, a walker crumpled at his feet, a long knife lodged in its head.

But it was too late, in his moment of shock, he had pulled the trigger and shot the girl who just saved his ass.

* * *

She stared back at him as she withdrew her hand from her knife. _What was he saying? He was here to help?_ His voice echoed in her ears, eerily soothing her. He sounded like velvet and feather and gravel all at the same time. It was almost hypnotic, but then again, she could be hallucinating, with all the blood loss she's having.

She tried to say something, but remembered that she had gagged herself earlier. Her wound started throbbing again, and she squirmed as she let her body ride through the pain. The stranger walked towards her again, but something in the shadows caught her attention and she tensed. Tensing wasn't good, and her eyes shut closed. When she opened them again, the stranger was again inching his way towards her, but her eyes flew wide in horror when behind him lurked the quietest, damnable walker she'd ever come across with in her life. There was no time, it was just already mere inches away from sinking its teeth on her stranger's neck, so she grabbed her knife and hoped for dear life that her aim proves true. And thank God, it did.

"Hnnnnngggggghhhhhhh!" she screamed through her gag as another sharp and foreign pain invaded her body like a cruel surprise. She was sure she could have bit through her tongue if the gag wasn't in her mouth. She strained her leg and stared down at the arrow biting down just above her knee. Now almost every limb on her body had an injury. _Just stinkin' perfect_. The universe seemed to really want to murder her today.

"Holy fuck! Shit!" Her blue-eyed stranger scrambled towards her, his hands, tentatively touching her everywhere, but seemed at a loss of what to do. His hand found its way to her mouth, yanking the fabric stuffed in it, so she could breathe better.

She wanted to breathe, she did, but first, she let out a blood-piercing scream, not caring if walkers from a hundred mile radius heard her. "Fuuuuuuuhhhuuuckkkk!" Again, she wasn't the type to cuss a lot, but lately, she was finding it more appropriate to than not. "Damn you! Damn you! I was trying to save your ass, you stupid twat! And you shot me! You shot mee!" She lashed rabidly at him, and he had to clamp down her mouth to shut her up.

"You best shut the hell up! You wanna ring them dinner bells, getcher geek buddies come paradin' towards us?" He hissed. "Dammit!"

She bucked against his iron grip, and tried clawing at him. The pain was killing her. It racked her body and all her nerves seemed to go haywire. She'd had enough for the day. She decided she had the right to just go berserk.

* * *

Daryl could barely believe this was happening to him. But things were just about to get a lot worse. Out of nowhere, Glenn's voice called out to him, screaming. "Argh! Daryl!"

"Glenn!" He called back. "Glenn!" He looked at the girl, and looked over his shoulders to where Glenn's voice was coming from.

"Stay here and shut up," he growled at the girl before yanking his crossbow to his chest and running towards Glenn. He was already down the stairs, and had probably come running down when he'd heard the girl screaming, but somehow he got himself pinned against a wall, with two walkers having a contest on who could bite him first. Daryl shot them both down, and quickly, Glenn sprang to kick another walker emerging from a door, and yanked the door closed.

"What the hell happened? I heard screaming. Apparently the walkers heard it too," Glenn picked up the knife he had dropped. More walkers were banging on the door from that other room, and from the windows.

"We need to git outta here," Daryl just answered, making his way back to where he left the girl. But suddenly the door behind him burst open, revealing five or more geeks racing each other towards them. And hell, as if by cue, they heard the girl let out another scream, this time, urgent.

* * *

The grungy, crossbow-wielding, blue-eyed stranger just shot her and now had left her alone behind that counter. She heard glass breaking, and the unmistakable growling of the undead making their way into the shop. With all the strength she had left in her, she crawled her way to the walker she'd just felled with her flying knife, pulled the knife from it, and tried to stand up to put up a fight or make a run for it.

She almost regretted it. Not only was it extremely painful, the movement had also attracted the attention of the three walkers who were already in the room, and in no time, they were closing in on her. She stepped back and tumbled over the dead walker on her feet, as she found her leg with the arrow pretty useless. She fell back on her bum, and the first walker crouched down to to get at her. She sank her blade into its skull, and the walker fell on top of her. The next one came, crawling over her and the dead walker above her. The heaviness was almost unbearable, but she managed to bring her tanto knife swinging on that geek's head as well. It connected with a loud whack, but to make things incredibly impossible for her, the blade had managed to get itself stuck in that skull.

She yanked and pulled at it, but soon the third walker was snarling on top of her too, trying to grab on her hand, she had to pull away. The walker's jaw snapped at her and its hands tried to find her limbs that were buried in the tangle of bodies, her knife sitting under it, completely useless.

She was a sitting duck, just waiting to be gnawed on, and she was about to say her final prayers, when out of nowhere, she remembered one last way out. The arrow on her knee. She quickly snaked her hand down her thigh and took hold of the arrow. She screamed bloody murder as she wrenched it out of her flesh and quickly plunged it into the walker's temple. She was convulsing out of pain and blood loss when another geek came through the window. _The apocalypse sucks!_

She stayed still and quiet then, hoping it would just walk past her. It did, until it smelled the fresh blood oozing from her knee, and then it came at her, hungry for flesh.

She was spent. This was the end of her. She couldn't even feel her body anymore. She closed her eyes. It had been a very exciting life, albeit, a fairly short one.

A sharp swish whistled through the air above her, and she heard the thud of a body falling. She opened her eyes then and saw the geek in front of her with an arrow through its mouth. It was a wonderful sight. She tilted her head a little and looked over her shoulder to see the same man who shot her, now trying to save her and she was sure her heart skipped a beat. _He looked strong and brave... her knight in shining ar-... err, poncho._

"C'mere!" He called but she couldn't move a muscle, as it were. Her knight strode towards her, and pulled her by her collar, snatching her from under the bodies, and not exactly gently too. She couldn't stand and he doesn't make her. So, instead he kept on pulling on her by her shirt, and that, together with the vision of an Asian man running beside her, was the last thing she remembered before she passed out.

* * *

They've finally found a more secure place next door at the bar, and only a handful of walkers had been able to follow them to it. Finally, some bit of respite.

"Is she dead?" Glenn asked grimly as he took in the sight of the bloodied girl. "What the heck happened?"

"Hell, I fuckin' shot her," Daryl muttered, laying the girl down on the floor and quickly ripped his own shirt and bound her leg tightly with it to stop the blood flow.

"Wh-why?" came Glenn's question.

"A fuckin' accident," Daryl growled.

Glenn tried to feel for the girl's pulse, and and when he found it, he didn't know if he was more relieved than worried. "What do we do now?" he asked. "We only have your bike, and it's about a couple hundred yards away from here, and I don't think she's waking up anytime soon," Glenn filled in.

Daryl was walking in circles, spitting and biting his nails, throwing wary glances at the girl. For the first time in a long time, he didn't know what to do. He'd been so good at this, at surviving and dealing with other survivors he came across with. He just didn't know what to do about helpless little girls after he'd shot them himself.

"Is... is she even going to survive this?" Glenn asked hesitantly. "Wait a minute. What are these scratches on her arm? Did she get scratched by a walker? Daryl, she may already be a lost cause. I'm not.. I'm not trying to be heartless here, but I think we've risked our lives enough. She may not even live through the night like this."

"She have a fever?" Daryl asked warily. Glenn felt her forehead and shook his head slowly.

"So that's prolly ain't from no walker then," Daryl concluded.

"What do you plan on doing with her? We can't stay here for long," Glenn was agitated, his eyes wandered at the windows which showed silhouettes of a couple or more geeks walking about.

"Hell, I thought plannin' was your line of expertise," Daryl countered.

"Dammit," Glenn muttered, and let his gaze fall on the girl on the floor. She was breathing steadily, Her long, raven hair matted against her damp, pale skin. She's not a child as they had thought she was earlier. Sure, she was small, maybe just a couple inches above five feet, and her features were delicate, but she wasn't a child. Only a woman had curves in the right places like this. When the world was still right, this was the kind of girl Glenn would have fallen head over heels in-love with. The impossibly adorable and incredibly sexy type.

_"Fuck, what the hell was I thinking? I already have Maggie. I love Maggie. I love Maggie. Maggie is hot, and I love her,"_ Glenn cursed himself inwardly, and snapped himself back to their current dilemma.

"She's even Asian like you, I think," Daryl murmured, not even knowing what he was saying anymore.

"I don't know, she could be Hawaiian. She could be anything. But that's not the point," Glenn snapped, looking back at Daryl. He paused, and with a sigh, he added, "Okay, I have a plan."

* * *

**_Terrible cliche, but who hasn't fantasized about Daryl Dixon rescuing them, hm? :) I have... I fantasize about him flinging me on his shoulder and carrying me like a sack of potatoes... the happiest sack of potatoes..._**


	3. Youth Had Never Tasted So Bitter

_**Author's Note:**__ Hey, stranger! I'm glad you're giving this fic a shot, and even got to chapter three~! :)) Here, we finally name our mystery OFC! I hope that in the long run, you'll get to love her, hate her (sometimes, when she does really stupid things), root for her, and all that jazz! :))_

* * *

**CHAPTER III**

**Youth Had Never Tasted So Bitter**

* * *

Rick hadn't been happy when Glenn came back alone. Hell, Glenn wasn't happy coming back alone... sporting Daryl's ridiculous bike (it wasn't his thing)... with Carol shooting him death glares.

"So you left him there, alone? Without any means to get back here?" She was angry, and understandably so.

"No, not alone, technically," Glenn started and recounted to everyone the events that led to the whole affair of leaving Daryl behind. It sounded a lot more stupid coming out from his mouth than how things really went down. He had felt like a fine, mighty hero when he and Daryl rushed down the hill in the attempts to save this girl, but as the words tumbled out of his mouth, and as he watched the faces of his friends crumple into consternation, he couldn't help but wince at how ridiculous it all sounded.

"Daryl... shot a girl?" Repeated Carl. "A girl you were trying to rescue?"

"Yes, and now I need to go and get them both. Now," Glenn explained.

"Both of them?" Rick cocked his eyebrows. "This girl doesn't have a group?"

Glenn was growing impatient. "No! Not that we know of. She was alone. Guys, if you want to see Daryl again, we have to go get him NOW," he widened his chinky eyes as much as they could go, and that seemed to get the message across to everybody.

"We'll take the truck, I'll come with you," said Rick instantly.

"I'm coming too," said Maggie, and just like that, Glenn's plan was finally in its last stages. It had been a very, very long day.

* * *

Daryl crossed the room to the window and peeked out the curtains. Darkness. The sun had already set two hours ago, and Glenn had been away for a good chunk of that couple hours. He was getting nervous, and he bit his lower lip as he paced the room for the hundredth time. His only consolation was the girl seemed to be stable as far as he could tell. He'd finished up stitching her belly for her and the bleeding had stopped.

But he was tired as hell, and he knew that if he sat down and let himself rest, he might fall right to sleep at how exhausted he was. It was an ordeal getting this girl to safety. Glenn had remembered seeing a pushcart a few yards away, had managed to ninja his way to it and back, and they had managed to carry the unconscious girl out of the bar, load her on the push cart, up the back alley, up the hill, carried her through the barricade of cars, killing off a record of walkers they've ever killed in a single day in the process, and finally arriving at the furniture shop where he was currently cooped up with her, watching her sleep on the couch in the faint moonlight streaming down from the high windows of the shop.

_What a bitch of a day. And no milk for Little Ass Kicker. This girl better stay alive, and she better not be trouble. All those sacrifices and effort just to save her ass, she better not die on him. He'd feel too fuckin' betrayed by the universe if he had another case of Sophia in his hands._ He noticed the girl shiver. He took off his poncho and laid it on her.

* * *

She felt a warm hand on her forehead, and suddenly she was alive again. She felt like she just went to hell and got spat back out to the apocalypse, which wasn't really much of an improvement. But as it were, she was actually quite pleasantly surprised to find out she still held breath. She liked surviving. She still had things to live for.

Her eyes fluttered open. It was already dark around her. She was on something soft and warm, covered by a thick, coarse cloth, its warmth pleasantly spreading on her body. The smell of it calmed her. It smelled faintly of wood and rich soil and spice and gasoline. She _mmm_'d and stirred. A man was hovering over her, and muttering something she couldn't understand through her half-asleep senses.

"Hmm?" She moaned softly.

"We'll git ya outta here," came the drawl and the light touch on her shoulder.

She nodded and fell back to sleep. The next time she regained consciousness, she was in a moving vehicle, garbled voices swimming above her head.

"No fever," it was a woman's voice. "But she's very beat up."

"I told ya, them scratches are prolly ain't from no walker," growled the more familiar voice.

"I'm still not sure this is wise..." said another man's voice.

"Should we just throw her out the fuckin' truck then? That make ya feel a hell lot wiser?" fumed the other.

There was silence, and she let herself fall back into unconsciousness once more.

She didn't wake up in the next two days.

* * *

"She's burning up," said Hershel. He'd stayed awake to keep an eye on the girl, as the majority of the group didn't feel safe with a dying girl just left unattended, and one with angry scratches on her arm. They'd even cuffed one of her hands to a pipe, and she was kept in that one "holding room" that separated their living quarters and the outside. Hershel had volunteered to keep watch, and that made Daryl feel better.

But now it was the crack of dawn, and he overheard Hershel tell Rick that the girl was burning up with a fever. It doesn't take a genius to know what was going to happen next.

"Son of a bitch," Daryl hissed at himself as he lay curled up on his perch. _All that for nuthin'._ He tried to keep his mind off of it and went back to a much needed rest. If the girl died, she better die while he was sleeping. He better not see her turn. He felt his heart harden, and almost vowed to himself he'd never go out of his way again to save any stranger, girl or not. Almost.

But he woke up later that day and the girl still hadn't turned. She just laid there, softly moaning and sweating with fluttering eyelids, and quivering lips. She was pale as death, but she was giving out a fight. Still, willpower won't be enough to save her. Daryl walked past her and Carl who was closely watching her with a gun at the ready.

"M' headin' out," he announced. "Still need ta get some milk for th'baby," he added.

"Daryl wait," stopped Carol. "You and Glenn stay in today. I'll go," she suggested. Daryl looked at Rick, who nodded at him.

"You and Glenn keep watch. Me and Maggie and Carol will try to hit the next town over, see if there's something there," said Rick.

"You feelin' alright?" Daryl asked Carol. She'd been weak from dehydration not too long ago.

When she assured him, Daryl didn't argue. He stayed and kept watch, manning the tower, and walking around the perimeters. But every once in a while, he found himself in that holding room, trying to be casual in checking up on the dying girl. He must have been coming over too much, because next time he walked into that room, Hershel had that look on his face.

"Daryl, why don't you switch with Carl and keep watch on the girl," he said. "Carl, why don't you go to Glenn, see if he needs anything."

And just like that, he found himself sitting on a chair in that room, his hands crafting arrows, his eyes flitting towards her almost obsessively. He didn't know what it was. Was he feeling guilt because he had shot her? Was he feeling responsible for her because he had saved her? His eyebrows furrowed. He was highly irritated. She had the fever. And she just wouldn't die and make it quick for everyone. He detested false hopes. Was there even the slightest chance she could survive the fever? He had asked Hershel that.

"Well, I suppose we'll just know when the time comes," he'd answered.

J_edi shit_. He snorted and went back to his arrows.

That night, nothing much changed. Rick and his team didn't find any milk for the baby, and what's still left won't last the week. They argued what to do with the girl. Some suggested, they just shoot her and end her miserable suffering. Hershel objected, saying her vitals were not dropping, and how did they know she wasn't having fevers from mere physical shock? The others countered, vitals or not, you get the fever, you turn. They didn't kill her. She didn't die. She didn't turn. And in the third day, her fever was gone.

* * *

She woke up to shrill crying filling her ears. _That baby sure could cry... Wait. No. It couldn't be. A baby? _She tried to lift her heavy eyelids. She tried to sit up. She found her hand restrained by a metal cuff. She looked like she was in a prison, and a one-legged, snow-haired old man was hopping towards her. It was somewhat a surreal sight.

"S-santa?" she murmured almost inaudibly. She shook her head a little to get half of her brain from dreamland.

"She's awake," said the man. He wasn't Santa. This wasn't the north pole. Looking around, she was sure she was in a prison. Suddenly, she heard scuffling of feet nearing her. Another man's face flooded her view. He had a grim expression on his face, his distinct blue eyes burrowed in the tight knots of his forehead.

"What's your name?" he asked. "I'm Rick Grimes."

"Rick Grimes..." she managed to breathe out. The baby was still crying. "Is that... a baby?" her voice sounded hoarse and faint. The white-haired man came to her rescue and handed her a glass of water, which she downed her throat with difficulty.

"What's your name?" asked Rick again. She paused, searching the man's face.

"My name..." she swallowed. "Summer. Summer Reeds," she answered.

"Summer. How are you feeling?"

Summer felt for her body. "Good, I think," she assessed. She looked around her and saw faces gawking at her. Not exactly kind faces, but she almost smiled just seeing them. It was the first time in a long time that she'd seen creatures resembling humans that weren't trying to eat her. She craned her neck towards the bundle cradled on one blonde girl's arms. She'd known it was a baby. It was cooing and sucking at its bottle, stirring a little. Her heart jumped to her throat. She hadn't seen a baby in forever, and she never thought she'd see one ever again.

"What's wrong?" Rick asked, holding her shoulder. She hadn't realized tears were streaming down her face.

"You have a baby..." she choked. "That's wonderful..." _Dammit_. What was she doing emotionally falling apart in front of these strangers all of a sudden? She wiped her tears quickly and swallowed hard.

Rick's line of questions were in the same direction... "Do you have a group? Where is your group? Is your group anywhere near here? Have you encountered any other groups recently?"

Summer tried to answer all his questions as best she could, and after that, quick introductions were made. However, she couldn't help but notice the absence of her blue-eyed stranger. She found the Asian guy, whose name was Glenn and directed her question to him.

"The.. other guy," she started.

Glenn smiled faintly, and cocked his head towards the door. "He's on watch duty," he answered.

She nodded. "Thank you. So much," she scanned the room and looked at their faces. "Thanks for going out on a limb for me, and... for everything," she said, gesturing to herself. They even put her in a new shirt. She paused. "Uhm, but... why am I hand-cuffed to this pipe?"

"We had to," it was Maggie who answered. "You had the fever. You had scratches on you. We just thought they were from the walkers. We couldn't risk it if you'd turned," she added.

"They were," Summer answered.

"They were? You got those wounds from walkers?" Rick mouthed his words carefully. She nodded. They exchanged looks of confusion

"These ones, yeah," she trailed her fingers on the drying scratches on her arm. "These ones aren't..." she ran her fingers on her leg wounds, "You thought I'd turn just because of scratches?" Summer asked.

"What, dontcha know nothin'?" the voice and the accent were familiar... and angry. She cocked her head towards the grungy man who just emerged from the door. Her crossbow-bearing stranger. Her knight in plaid shirt. _What was he mad about?_

* * *

"How th'hell are ya still alive?" _Damn._ That came out wrong. What was he mad about? Shouldn't he be happy she was alive? Hell, he was silently hopin' and prayin' for somethin' like a miracle to happen. And he wasn't the type to go hopin' and prayin'.

"Hi..." she answered, smiling, unblinking as she took him all in. Dirt-smudged, tall and lean. This was the very first person she'd seen in months. The very first set of blue eyes she'd encountered in a very long time. A living soul. One that didn't want her dead or raped. Together with Glenn, her savior. And at the same time, he was the asshole that put an arrow to her knee. _By accident, _she reminded herself.

His lips pursed to the side, and he chewed on the bottom of it. "How's the uhm..." he trailed, pointing at her knee.

She shrugged, "It's alright. I heal like hound dog."

"Hell, sorry bout that," he looked at her and tried to appear as sincere as he felt.

"Don't worry about it..." she answered. "I get even."

Daryl's brows came together, trying to decipher what she just said, but her voice soon cut off his thoughts.

"Uhm, is there a chance I can get off the handcuffs soon? I'm pretty harmless as it is. Please?" she looked to Rick. Rick, in turn, heaved a deep sigh, looked at his companions for any violent reaction, and when he got none, uncuffed the girl. She rubbed her wrist gingerly, and tried to stretch and crack her bones as much as she painlessly could.

"We'll still have to keep you in this room. It's secure, and we'll give you food, let you rest until you're mended and ready to go," warned Rick.

Daryl huffed at that, and dragged Rick to a corner, and with angry, hushed tones, he argued, "Y'can't throw 'er back out there."

Rick grunted in return, and the others piled around them to listen in and give a piece of their minds.

"She's got no clue what she's doin' out there, hell of a genius gettin' herself stuck in that mess. Put her out there on her own, and she'll be dead in no time," Daryl didn't know why he was desperate to keep her safe, but he'd put so much effort on her already, he didn't want it to go to waste.

"Hey! I can hear you!" cried the girl indignantly, but he ignored her.

"Daryl's right, Rick..." Maggie seconded.

"Dad... we can't just kick her out like that, she's alone..." chimed in Carl.

"Only if she cooperates," suggested Carol.

"And don't cause us any more trouble than she already has," Glenn spoke out of experience.

"And..." Hershel added, "Think about it... she got scratched by a walker, and didn't turn. She might know something about a cure. She's a survivor, Rick. The only one that we know of aside from myself, and you had to cut off my leg."

Rick sighed. "Alright. It's up to her. If she wants to stay, she'll have to play by our rules. Contribute, tell us everything she knows, pull her own weight," Rick decided.

"Good. Can't believe we were gonna throw out a child to fend for herself," Daryl commented, walking away from the huddle.

A snort bubbled up from the girl's mouth and soon she was chuckling. "What the heck did you just call me?" she laughed.

Daryl walked towards her. "What?"

"Did you just call me a child?" her eyes were laughing.

"Y-yeah? That's what ya are," Daryl scoffed, the words coming out almost as a question, and he threw a hand at her direction.

"I'm twenty-five years old," she shot her eyes wide at him.

* * *

Her blue-eyed stranger straightened and a funny, clueless expression took over his features. Did he really not realize beforehand that she wasn't a child? _Damn!_ Her pride as a woman had never received such a damaging blow. She'd received praises before about how ageless and fresh she looked, but heck, being called a kid wasn't much of a compliment.

"What?" His voice was a little breathy, and it might just be her, but she thought it wavered a little. He didn't seem to register the new information she'd just given him.

"I'm quarter of a century old... 25? That's not a kid's age."

"Right, an' I'm the King of France," he rolled his eyes.

"Are you kidding me? What are you, blind?" Summer threw her hands up, but instantly recoiled at the stab she still felt on her belly.

* * *

Daryl was at a loss. He studied her again. Looked her up and down. He'd done this so many times already. Was he blind? _Fuck_, this girl wasn't a child? She's in her mid-freaking-twenties? Now that he looked at her, he kind of sees it. _What the hell._ _What was his brain doing lagging on him like that?_ Somehow, in the back of his mind, he already knew... it's just that his whole resolve refused to recognize it. He had wanted to save a child. _Fuck this._

The laughter first erupted from Glenn, and then Carol, and then the whole room was laughing at him, or the face he was apparently making.

He turned red. "To hell with all y'all!" He spat and stormed out of the room, feeling utterly embarrassed.

* * *

She spent the rest of the day just sitting there in that room, gauging her own body, testing her limbs, eating, drinking, sleeping, talking to Beth, trying to get to look at the baby, keeping her distance from the creepy guy with the awesome stache, named Axel, having small chats with Hershel or Oscar. She wasn't left bored.

But there was this wanting inside of her. She really wanted to see him, hear his voice, even when he was angry and hostile towards her. She hadn't even got to ask him his name. She knew it was Daryl now. She'd heard them call him by it. But she wanted to hear it coming out of his own mouth. Every once in a while, she'd try the name on her lips, rolling the syllables around her tongue slowly. _Daryl. _Hm. She shook her head, trying to snap herself out of it, refusing to believe she was getting infatuated towards this guy all too quickly.

It was already dinnertime when she saw him again. He was avoiding her, even avoiding looking at her. He was pissed, throwing off his poncho to the side, seething quietly. He looked tired and defeated. He shook his head as he came near Beth and Hershel. They seemed to understand his silent communication, and they both sighed. Rick came plodding behind him, with the same dejected look on his face.

They ate in thick silence, and Summer wondered what the problem was, but didn't press in to ask. They seemed like a very tight-knit group, a bit untrusting of strangers, wary of newcomers, protective of each other. She felt like an intruder in their midst. She ate the food they gave her, and before she could start any conversation, they were out of the room and have locked her in.

They've given her a mattress to sleep on. It was really nice of them, really. She was still in that holding room, but she didn't care. She didn't mind that they were holding her there. She understood, and it worked in her favor. She'd be able to heal fast, not worrying about walkers, and the faster she recovered, the faster she'll be off their hairs. She'll be on the road again, going west. She bit her lip as she felt a little pang on her chest on the thought of leaving these people behind. Of leaving _him_ behind.If only she could bring him with her.

_"God, I'm obsessing for no reason,"_ she whispered to herself as she drifted to sleep, a little confused.

She woke up with a start, panting. Her heart was beating out of her chest. It was that nightmare again. The one where her family turns into walkers and chase her endlessly until they sink their teeth in her flesh. It couldn't be true. They could still be alive. No. They're definitely still alive. They have to be. _Fuck._ It's such a long way to California. She sat up and looked out the window, and tried to remember their faces the last time she saw them, and not the ones in her nightmare. That brought tears to her eyes, and she rocked herself as she sobbed and prayed against all hope that they were still alive.

* * *

Daryl stirred awake. From where he was lying down he saw her sit up. He heard her sniffle and hiccup, moan, and whine quietly. Her shoulders heaved and shook. She was crying, hugging herself, and trying hard to hold it in. Whatever she wanted everybody to believe, he saw, and knew... that she really was just one helpless girl... and deep inside him, something pulled like gravity... onto her, to place his hand on those shivering shoulders, tell her it's going to be alright. She's safe now.

"Summer..." he tried to pass her name on his lips for the first time.

* * *

_**What would you do to get Daryl Dixon say your name? **_


	4. Afternoon Delight, Surprise!

_**Author's Note:**__ Eek! I hope I'm going on right direction with this! You guys better tell me what you think about this pairing so I can do right about it~! . It's hard writing about Daryl when I keep thinking of Murphy ToT.. I think I need a Walking Dead Marathon..._

_AND I concede! It's not easy to write smut... I felt like I was choking the whole time I was writing this... *sniffle* Well here goes nothin'.. my first fic with sexy time... well, kind of :))) You'll see..._

* * *

**CHAPTE****_R IV_**

**_Afternoon Delight, Surpr_****ise!**

* * *

Summer had been allowed to go in and out of the holding area during the day, as long as she didn't go too far out of sight and didn't do anything questionable. Her body healed quickly. She still limped, and the wound on her belly still ached when she carried heavy stuff, but as far as she could tell, she was already perfectly functional.

Well, so far as her physical health was concerned, that is. Mentally... emotionally... psychologically... hell, she didn't even know where the problem was, but deep inside her, there was a bizarre storm raging. And that storm had a name: _Daryl..._

_Ah. The name even tasted sweet in her mouth._ She'd roll it around her tongue as a pastime.. that is, when she wasn't busy ogling at him as inconspicuously as she could possibly manage. She felt light as a feather just thinking about him, she suspected she was having a sort of psychiatric fit. What did they call it? Hero worship? Stockholm syndrome? Obsessive love disorder? _Damn it_. It was those beautiful, icy blue eyes of his... culprits of her sanity. Or maybe that sensuous, low drawl that escapes his lips and made her wish he spoke more... spoke to her, said her name. Or those sinfully sexy, wide shoulders... and the thought of her hands all over them...

Summer groaned loudly, clutching on the railing of the staircase she was currently ascending, her knuckles turning white. She shook her head and forced herself to think logically. Wasn't she supposed to abhor him for that arrow to her knee and for acting all shitty towards her all this time? And besides, she barely even knows the man. And anyways, in a few days she'd be gone from there and she would never see him again. And to top it all off, the guy thinks she's just a kid. Can't blame him... the age difference is probably wide. He was probably ten, fifteen years her senior, even more, for crying out loud!_ Mmmmh... then he'd be that much more experienced..._

"Dammit! Damn, Damn, Damn... Daaamn...Daarryyyl. Fuck," she whined as she pressed two fingers on the bridge of her nose. She had it bad. Really bad. It was never like this. She'd never fallen for anyone ever like this, ever before... and it just had to be in the middle of the apocalypse...to a man who barely talks to her. Probably hates her. So unconventional.

She managed to survive against the atrocious virus that turned men into flesh-eating zombies... but she couldn't seem to overcome this other stupid disease that's making her look and think just like a mindless zombie... her brain empty except for the need to devour him... as a manner of speaking.

She finally reached the guard tower. She'd never been up there before. Glenn and Maggie were out for a town run, so there wasn't anybody there... She'd decided to check it out, see what it was they fancied about the place.

She breathed deep when she reached the top, reveling in the breeze the altitude offered. She circled the tower and shadowed her eyes with her hand as she looked far out and studied her surroundings. There was a creek, woods, dirt road... random walkers in Sunday dresses and jumpers and the southern fashion... Oh, and there was Rick with Carl, teaching him something with his gun... (that made her smile). She felt her eyes being pulled to her right, and like stinkin' gravity that's not helping her dilemma, her eyes lock onto him. The Blue-eyed Devil in the flesh, busying himself under the hood of a truck, his ass jutting upwards beautifully to the delight of her eyes.

"You sly brain, you..." she whispered, as she realized how her subconscious had wanted her to climb that guard tower for the very purpose of tracking him down and spying on him. "This is a new low for you, Summer..." she murmured, as she followed him with her gaze.

Her chest tightened, and suddenly it was hot just watching him move around on that truck. One of her hands was already crawling up her belly before she knew it, slipping inside her shirt, smoothing out her skin, stitches and all. She imagined herself sprawled out on the hood of that truck, and his hands pinning her down and touching her where she touched herself right now. She smiled as she felt her skin soft and warm against her own palm.

She moaned as her hand squeezed against one aching breast, taking her time. Her other hand went white on the railing as she moved to her other breast, squeezing, rubbing, circling on her nipples through the fabric of her bra.

A distant sound of laughter (from Carl) suddenly snapped her to attention. _What. The. Hell._ She straightened as her brain grasped what she was doing, out there in the open... for all the world to see. She panted, and slipped her hand from inside her shirt, and warily looked around to see if anybody was remotely watching. Her eyes found Daryl again, and this time he was plodding across the yard from one end to the other where Hershel was hopping over to meet him. Well, at least nobody seemed to have taken notice of her...

She bit her lip, and glanced at the door behind her that led inside the guard tower shack. Her weight balanced from one foot to the other as she wrestled in her mind the next course of action she should take...

_Oh, to hell with it!_ She stepped in the room and decided to get _it_ (whatever _it_ was) out of her system once and for all before she goes mad. She groaned and closed the door behind her, closed her eyes as she sank to her knees, and worked on the brass and zipper of her pants. She reached behind her back and unclasped her bra, and she sucked in breath when her breasts felt the freedom from the constricting fabric.

She was aware of the faint throb of pain just above her knee where his arrow had pierced her, and oddly enough, that turned her on even more. Both her hands worked in perfect unison... in harmony, one hand taking care of business upstairs, and the other delving deep where she was hot and wet. She hissed as a finger brushed against her clit through the dampness of her panties. She felt so sensitive, so aroused... so fast.

She hadn't done this in what, a year? She never really felt the need to... but now, that was all that burned inside her: _need._ She moaned, her eyes tightly shut, her lip between her teeth. This was Daryl's hand cupping her breast, pinching her nipple, pressing, rubbing up and down her torso... and this was his other hand, slipping inside the band of her panties, ghosting over the bare, sensitive flesh that screamed for his touch.

She lifted herself up more so she could spread her legs farther apart. Dang, her pants were a little tight. She pulled her other hand away from her breast and with both hands, she pulled her pants down out of desperation so her hand could have more leeway to maneuver. Now half her ass was hanging against the cold air.

Now that she had room, her fingers started working frantically on herself. She trapped her nub between two fingers and rubbed circles, slowly at first, then gaining momentum, until they were practically fluttering. Her head fell back, and her other hand found purchase on a ledge above her, and she tried to pull herself up to reduce pressure on her knees and her injured leg.

Her head rolled on her shoulders and her back arched and she whimpered as she rubbed her first climax off of her. It was sweet and heady. Hot, wet, and slick juice flooded her fingers, but she wasn't done yet.

With a shaky hand, she pulled up her shirt and bit the edge of it to her mouth to muffle the dirty sounds she was making and still going to make, and when she stopped trembling enough, she went back down and eased one finger inside her opening. Her mouth watered, and her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she felt her own tightness grip around her finger. The thought of Daryl being inside her tightness made her head spin, and she cried out, her walls clamping on her finger. She was almost too tight, her finger almost unmoving in that envelope of sugar walls... but her needs called out to her.

Her hips bucked into her hand, and she hooked her finger to where she knew she would find that spot, and her whole body vibrated at the pleasure when she hit it. She started out with a rhythm, her hips rocking into her hand, her finger slipping in and out of her dripping honey pot. A strangled squeal escaped her muffled lips, as she slipped in another digit and pumped frantically, desperately, pushing herself to the edge. She's so close. In the darkness of her shut eyes, she pictured his piercing blue eyes, and just like magic, even his scent invaded her senses: campfire... sweet earth... mm... even the smell of car grease... all man... and with that and one final hook of her fingers, she exploded.

She rode her orgasm down, finally released the shirt from her teeth... and whispered his name sweetly, "_Daryl..."_

_"Holy fuck,"_ came his voice from behind her.

* * *

It was already mid afternoon. Daryl busied himself with the pick-up truck, changing its oil, making sure it was in tip top shape, and whatnot. He really didn't have to do it. He was just trying to get himself busy and dirty, get his mind off of things. He'd been feeling a little off lately.

He'd already come back from hunting, and he almost had a close call because he was spacing out right in the middle of the wilderness, thinking of the number 25, doing lame arithmetic in his head. For the life of him, he couldn't figure out why that girl had that effect on him, why she suddenly takes over like that. It's downright aggravating! She was trouble. From the very first time he saw her. He grunted. He hated being conflicted like this. What was it exactly that grated on his nerves about her?

She was always smiling, like she ain't smack in the middle of the end of the world, smiling when she woke up, smiling when she played with Little Ass Kicker, smiling when she talked about Asian things with Glenn, smiling at Axel's jokes, smiling when she entered or left a room, even smiling at her wounds (who the hell does that?) when she thinks nobody was watching her.

But that was just it, he couldn't help but watch her. He was like a moth to a flame, attracted to her warmth, to her demeanor that told she has had a life filled with pleasant memories... a happy childhood, one that he never had. It was like she hadn't even lost anyone through all this chaos, when obviously, she was just alone when they'd found her. And there were these nights when she'd silently cry herself to sleep, but in the morning wake up with such hopeful eyes. _What was her story?_

"Hell, she's queer, is what she is," Daryl resolved, fixing the radiator cap back on its place. He wiped his hands on a cloth and slammed the hood of the truck. He heard Carl laughing at a distance. That made him smile. Time to go back inside. He turned right in time to see Hershel across the yard, waving at him and hopping in his direction.

* * *

"Daryl, it's about Summer..." Hershel started, and Daryl almost groaned aloud. She followed her like a plague! When Hershel didn't continue, Daryl shot up both his brows at him in question.

"She... she looked like she was in pain," Hershel explained.

"Where is she?" Daryl asked. Annoying as she was, he didn't like the sound of her in suffering.

"Up there..." Hershel pointed. "Inside the guard tower. She moves too much too soon. I tried to stop her from going up there, but she didn't seem to hear me. I saw her holding on to the railing like she was in pain, clutching on her stomach. She might need some help coming back down from there, but you know how she doesn't like asking for help herself," said Hershel, who had apparently grown very attached to Summer. The old man had delighted in how she also survived being attacked by a walker, so much like himself. At the moment, Hershel was Summer's number one ally in the group.

"I'd go myself if it didn't take me the whole afternoon to climb up there. But even if I managed, what use would I be to her going down? Daryl, I'd really appreciate it if you went and brought her back. I'd like to check her wounds before we have dinner," explained Hershel.

Daryl hesitated.

"Well, well, well. I volunteer if you're not up for it," said Axel, who suddenly appeared out of nowhere. "Where is she then? Up there? And all alone? Interesting." One of his eyebrows cocked up, and he smiled crookedly under his mustache that reminded Daryl of squirrels... and he liked shooting squirrels for breakfast.

Daryl glared. "You best stay away," he pointed. "You bastard," he said and turned his back on them, treading his way towards the watch tower.

"Something I said?" confused Axel asked Hershel when Daryl was out of earshot.

* * *

Daryl wiped and scrubbed his grease-stained hands with a rag as he plodded his way to the guard tower. If she needed help coming down from there, he at least should have clean hands to offer. He felt something stir inside him as he neared his destination. This would be their first real interaction after the _I-thought-you-were-a-child_ fiasco some few days ago, and he wanted to clear some fog between them. Although, he had a good mind to think of a smart-ass lashing he'd say to her first when he got there..._ causing everyone trouble like this, climbing towers she can't climb down from._

He climbed the last of the stairs, and tucked the rag behind his back.

"Su-" he was about to call her name, when he stopped dead. Soft moans registered into his ears. Instantly, his instincts concluded she might be hurting... so he quickly stepped towards the door and pushed it open. He wasn't ready for the scene that spread out so vividly in front of his wide-shot eyes.

She was on her knees, her back towards him, one hand above her head, holding on to the ledge of the window... and the other moving scandalously between her creamy thighs in unmistakable motions. Her faint and muffled moans filled the room. Her heady scent filled the room. Her very warmth filled the room.. and filled his head, making his blood rush down instantly south to his groin, making it really uncomfortable for him to move and not move at the same time. He tensed.

_This.. she.. her.. This one's all woman._

Every single notion of her being a child instantly shattered right there in front of his very eyes.

His mouth gaped open and watered while his throat ran dry, as he watched her buck and grind her hips in beautiful catlike motions, her bare ass bouncing invitingly, her tight, little body twisting to beckon to him... _Holy hell_. He shouldn't just be standing there watching her... but he couldn't keep his eyes off her... her tiny waist, her exposed back, glistening with sweat... the small of her back where her waist and her amazing ass met was sexy as hell. He felt his hand slowly inch to the front of his pants, brushing against the unmistakable bulge that sat there.

_"Ah! Hngh!_" she moaned, and his jaws tightened. He was fighting so hard not to yank his pants down and do something about the ache between his legs... His mind was already thinking about how her skin felt, how it would feel like to cradle her body and make those moans his. He was a man after all.

He swallowed thickly as she quickened her pace, and soon she was convulsing and whining and bowing her back.

_He should run. Now. Now, dammit!_

But his traitorous legs felt like lead, firmly planted where he stood, even as he watched her slowly simmer down from her peak...

And when he thought he couldn't possibly take any more than what he just witnessed, she just had to open her mouth and whisper as clear as daylight the last two syllables he'd ever expect to come out of her very lips:

"_Daryl."_

"Holy fuck," he gasped, eyes widening, his heart stopping. _Daryl._ That was his name, right? Daryl. He still heard her voice ringing inside of his head.

Summer straightened at the sound of his voice and her head snapped back over her shoulders, her eyes, dark and hazy with pleasure, locking with his stormy blue ones...

He lost all sense now. He was a complete, gaping idiot staring at her flushed face, her darkened eyes, and her burning lips. He tried with all his might, he did, but he couldn't help but let his gaze travel down to where he could just barely see the flesh of her breasts, exposed under her bunched up shirt.

_Downright shameless!_

"Heyyy! Daryl!" Axel's voice shattered the heavy silence between them. The ex-con's voice came dangerously near from below. Daryl felt like a truck just hit him on the face. And his breath, that he had no idea he'd been holding, knocked out from his lungs.

"Hey Daryl, you two alright up there? Hershel wants to know." Axel called again.

Summer's face quickly manifested horror, and more so when footsteps resounded, coming up the stairs. She was still trembling from her recently concluded _solo ride_, and weakened from the shock of seeing Daryl of all people, standing right behind her.

"D-do something!" She pleaded at him, as she scrambled with shaky hands to pull her pants up and button up, and failing miserably so. Axel's footsteps drew nearer.

Daryl cursed. His mind was racing. He quickly peeled his eyes away from her and burst out the door, slammed it closed behind him quickly, and just in time too. Axel was already there, smiling up at him from the last two steps of the staircase.

"She's fine!" roared Daryl. Axel almost jumped.

"Well, a-alright. Need any help?" he offered amiably.

Daryl swallowed and tried to compose himself. "No. Git yer ass back to Hershel, tell 'er she's fine," he said lamely. His own voice sounded foreign to him. Axel made a face. "Hmm.. you don't look alright, man... Miss Summer, you okay in there?"

"Uhm, yeah! Just.. just catching my breath... I'll be down in a minute!" she managed to reply.

Axel tried to crane his neck around Daryl, but Daryl shot him the meanest glares he could summon from the deep recesses of his currently shitfaced, choleric soul.

Axel shrugged. "Alright... I'll see you in a few then, " he said slowly and left with a look of consternation plastered on his face.

* * *

Summer fumbled at her pants. She couldn't seem to get the brass button to slip through the hole. She almost laughed at herself. But it wasn't exactly all funny... and she reddened, felt her ears burn, as she remembered the sight of Daryl behind her as she fucked herself mindless with her finger and the very thoughts of him. Embarrassing as hell.

Daryl saw her... was watching her. How long had he been standing there? But she did notice one thing... he didn't look like he hated the show...

She straightened her shirt and tried to stand up on shaky legs... she winced when she saw blood on her knee, and felt the sting it came with. She'd busted it open.

Well... it was totally worth it. She couldn't help it if she tried to stop the grin spreading on her flushed cheeks.

* * *

_**I keep wondering what would've happened if Daryl decided not to go and let Axel go fetch her instead O_O**_


	5. Little Miss Walking Nightmare

_**Author's Note**__: Thanks for reading thus far, you guise~! :) So here it is... the aftermath of Summer's little stint. I'm trying to weave the story keeping true to how __**Mr. Norman Reedus**__ sees Daryl Dixon's character as (and how I see him in a rom-com) XD. And I shall quote part of Mr. Reedus' interview on MTV news (not that I watch MTV):_

_"I don't think he's the type of character who will throw you up against a tree, have moonlight glistening off his sweaty back, I don't want to be that guy. I'd rather be the guy who is completely awkward and has no game. I'd rather prematurely ejaculate and cry in the corner rather than 'Yeah! Nailed her!' It's a zombie apocalypse, there's really no one to get with. I want to be as awkward as possible when it comes with that." - Norman Reedus._

_Well, at least that's what I'm trying for! :)))_

* * *

**CHAPTER V**

**Little Miss Walking Nightmare**

* * *

Blue balls. Blue balls... blue, fuck-less aching balls. Daryl gripped on the handrail as he watched Axel walk away.

_Yeah, you keep your damn eyes on Axel. Keep your damn eyes on Axel and think of his ugly-ass mustache. Think of ugly skanks. No, Dixon. Don't go closin' your eyes. Don't go imaginin' things like how she'd look like as naked as the day she was born. That woman's the she-devil._

"Ah," came the she-devil's voice from the inside of her lair. There was a dull thump on the wall. He swallowed thickly and swirled around to face the closed door. He stopped before pushing the door open. He knocked. Two awkward knocks. His brain felt fried, he didn't know what he was doing exactly.

"Uhhhh... it's open?" came the she-devil's befuddled answer. They were both feeling fried in the head.

"Don't I know it's open!" he flared. "What I wanna know is if you gotcher shit together!"

"Oh."

"Ya dressed?"

"Uh-huh," she replied.

"Hershel wants ya back inside..." he paused. "Ya can't just keep climbin' towers ya can't climb down from," he lamely tried for his smart-ass remark he'd rehearsed on his way up there. Now, that just didn't sound remotely smart-ass at all. Sounded plain stupid in lieu of what had just transpired. _Why was he even trying?_

"Okay," she answered faintly. "I'll be down in a minute."

Daryl turned around and made his way down the first few steps of the staircase, trying to scan his brain for a secluded place he might need before the day ended. But there was something about her voice just now... With a grunt, he turned around again and stomped his way back up, swinging the door open.

She was leaning over the wall, catching her breath, one hand supporting the side of her injured thigh. It was shaking, and bleeding quite profusely, fresh blood spreading through her pants over the dried stain from before.

"Shit," Daryl went over to her. "You're a walkin' nightmare, is what ya are!" he scolded as he assessed the damage.

"I'm sorry! You don't have to help me if you don't want to!" she shoved him away when he tried to get her off the wall.

"An' what?! Explain t'the old man why I just let ya bleed out for dead, after your _vigorous_ exercise?!" he jerked her up, hooking her arm to his shoulder so he could lift her, and she could lean on to him.

He bit his lip. She was still warm and damp from sweet perspiration, and still scented of sex.

She bit her lip. He was hot and solid against her, and she fit snugly around his arm.

He half-dragged her to the door. He was mad. Mad at her for being such a perverted little train wreck. Mad at himself for having a hard on from said train wreck... from this odd, infuriating, midget girl who was probably made in freaking China. Don't matter that she's cute and hot as hell when playin' with herself. She's not supposed to be his type. _Dear Lord!_

_Think of ugly skanks, Dixon. And chupacabras._

"Well! It's not _my_ fault I'm thus incapacitated!" she yapped at him. "I used to be able to do_ really_ vigorous exercises, without a hitch, mind you... and more than what you'd just apparently _enjoyed_ watching," she rolled her eyes dramatically towards the bulge that was still evident between his legs.

"You best shut the hell up!" he spat as he turned angry red.

"No! I'll say what I want to! I have a right to be mad! I was fine as a fiddle until I took that arrow to my knee! I wonder who the idiot was that shot me! Oh, yeah... it was _you_! Why, thank you, helpless little girl for saving my sorry ass from being gnawed on by a walking carcass! Here, have an arrow, and let's shank it up your kneecap!" she lashed, not missing a beat.

"Ugh! You've got tongue on you enough for ten rows of teeth!" he sneered as he led her down the last steps, careful to be rough on her. "T'was an accident, and I sure as hell made up for it! Saved your pathetic little ass more than you could ever dream of savin' mine! An' did I get a thank you from little miss sunshine?!" he growled.

"Well! Thank you then, and move on!" she snapped back angrily.

"Ya move on yourself! Ya keep blamin' me for your stupid busted up knee," he yanked her forcefully, when she dragged her feet on the ground stubbornly just to make things difficult for him. They've almost crossed the yard, the afternoon sun blaring down at them.

"Hell, I'll take blame for th' first injury, but _this_," he scoffed at her knee. "I ain't no takin' no blame for this. Ain't got nothin' to do with this shit. This is all you, Einstein."

"Psh! Nothing to do with it..." she mocked. "You've got _everything_ to do with it, if you must know, mister. Who did you think I was getting off on? I don't get riled up and wet just from thoughts of my sexy self, you know." Her filthy, dirty mouth had moved faster than her brain._ Shit._

Daryl stopped dead on his tracks and cocked his head to face her, trying to process the words that just came out of her motor mouth.

She had the grace to blush. She was red as a beet against the afternoon sun, her chin sinking to her chest, her eyes pressed together, and lips tightly pursed. For some reason, seeing her like this somewhat appeased him, even a little bit. _This_. The helpless her. This was the one thing about her that he could deal with. Hits his soft spot, so to speak. But she's still the most annoying living creature he'd ever come across with!

"What did ya just say t' me?" he found himself asking, his voice coming out hoarse, even to his surprise.

* * *

She wanted to dissolve right then and there, be one with the soil she was standing on, maybe come back to life as a beautiful tree without a mouth. Confound it all! That was by far the most unconventional, most embarrassing confession she's ever made to a man she had hots for: _Hey, I just met you, and this is crazy... but I masturbate thinking about you!_

There was nothing else to do. She had to try and wish for a time machine. Maybe if she wished it hard enough, it would drop right in front of her and she'd be able to undo what she just said. Hell, undo the whole afternoon if she had to. Second thoughts on the latter, but heck. _Time machine. Heavens above, send me a time machine._

She obsessively chewed on her lips, keeping her eyes tightly shut as she chanted the words in her head.

"Answer me," he demanded, his voice pulling her back to reality where no time machines existed. She shook her head quickly, pressing her eyelids tighter together, refusing to give him an answer.

The real Daryl made her nervous like a child in a thunderstorm. He was like an impenetrable wall, but also volatile and unpredictable, save from his _consistent_ hostility towards her. She just couldn't grasp what he's about. The real Daryl was nothing like the one in her fantasy world... who'd come on to her at her beck and call, who'd be suave with his words and crafty with his hands. The Daryl standing next to her, drilling her with impossible questions, wasn't that simple.

"Why the hell would ya touch yourself thinkin' 'bout _me_?" her breath hitched at his question. Her heart stopped. She hadn't expected that question, and definitely not in the manner in which it was asked.

He sounded at a loss, almost incredulous...

She opened her eyes so she could search his face. But when she did, she saw that her vision swam... and she staggered and fell back against his solid mass, suddenly remembering that she was still draining blood from that small body of hers.

"Ah, shit," Daryl cursed as he quickly lifted her up in his arms and sprinted to get her inside.

* * *

"Hershel!" Daryl bellowed, laying Summer down on her mattress, and stepping aside to let the old man get to her.

"What happened?" cried Hershel hobbling over, Carl and Carol at his tail.

"Sorry..." Summer muttered, grimacing at her knee. "It just... busted open..." It was a pathetic statement, but the only one she could come up with at the moment.

"What on earth happened?" Hershel turned to Daryl. It was as if he was even blaming him for the present situation. Daryl opened his mouth but it didn't form any words.

"It's my fault, Hershel," Summer quickly clarified... "Daryl helped me. Thank you," she turned to Daryl and tried to give him a sincerest little smile.

Daryl was chewing on the inside of his cheek and shifting his weight around his feet uncomfortably, watching her as Hershel untied the soaked fabric that wrapped her leg and peered inside her cut pants to see the damage. After a few seconds, the vet shook his head.

"It might be best to cauterize it," he said and started tearing at her pants more, and directing Carol to get the stove working.

"No, no, please... it'll stop bleeding in a bit, I promise," she panicked. She looked absolutely terrified at the idea. "It's going to heal up nicely, just... sew it up again or something. Please... I'll be good, I won't bust it open again... " her lips quivered as her eyes glazed with impending tears.

"Alright," the vet consented after he considered her. "Carl, get me water. Carol, threads and needles.

Carl and Carol quickly jumped to gather the needed supplies, while Daryl just stood there, his heart wrenched at the sight of her sudden breakdown when Hershel suggested to cauterize her wound. She was frightened to the point of trembling. And Daryl realized that it was the first time he'd seen that look on her face. He'd witnessed her inches away from death before, with walkers snapping at her face, but she never fell apart like how she just did just now, and he couldn't ignore it.

Carl and Carol came back, and Hershel sanitized and swiftly stitched the wound together. It wasn't just a small round puncture. Somehow, when she'd yanked the arrow off hastily she'd damaged more tissue, making it much more harder to heal.

She didn't as much as cry out when he was sewing her up, just let out little hisses, trying to be as still as possible.

"There, good as new," Hershel patted her leg when he finished, standing up to get himself cleaned up as well. Carol laid a hand on her shoulder and smiled at her faintly before following Hershel, and Carl left with the bloodied bucket of water.

Summer choked on silent tears as she timidly curled to her side on the mattress.

"You're right..." she whispered, knowing Daryl would hear. "I am a walking nightmare..."

* * *

_**Would you mind really badly if I asked ya to leave a review to let me know what worked for you so far in the story and what didn't? :)**_


	6. Family, It's Worth It

**_Author's Note: _**_I will apologize in advance, sorry Daryl fans, this short chapter is mostly about Summer, the fic's OFC :))_

_Thanks ya'll for following this story so far~! :))_

_**P.S.**__ I'd like to give a shoutout to __**CannonRebel**__, __**Leyshla Gisel**__, __**Ladyxdezi**__ & __**Dhalia89**__ for my very first ever reviews! :)) *snifffle* Your words are fuel and keeps me goin'..._

* * *

**CHAPTER VI**

**Family. It's Worth It.**

* * *

"You're right..." she whispered when they were left alone in the room. "I am a walking nightmare..."

Daryl heaved a sigh. So she's not as stupid or jackheaded as he was afraid she would be about this.

"Nope, not anymore, ya ain't. At least for th' _walkin'_ part," Daryl snorted, intently watching her curled back as he sat on a bench.

"An' friendly advice? Drop th' nightmare shit too, if ya know what's best for ya. Next time ya cause trouble for these people? I ain't gonna be happy, and ya ain't gonna like it. And just so we're clear? When shit hits the fan, I'll choose them over ya or any stranger at any given day." He knew his words were a little harsh, but it was something he felt he needed to get across to her, and he wasn't one for sugar-coating. Plus, it was something he needed to say to himself too.

She digested his words, gauged the tone of his low, reverberating voice. She knew he didn't say them out of spite. It wasn't personal, but still, it bit her. The reality of things. At that moment, all she ever wanted was to be one of _these people_ that he cared about this much. She would have given anything just to hear those devoted and protective words come out of those thin lips of his and have them apply to her. But she was the _stranger_.

Her throat tightened, and she quickly checked herself. She had to face him like the adult he thought she wasn't. She gathered her resolve and slowly turned to him and nodded, acknowledging his words.

"Yeah, you better," she agreed solemnly. "These are good people... they depend on you... and adore you to pieces," she smiled fondly at him, saying the last part. "You have a good family. Worth protecting. Worth fighting for."

Her eyes bore into his, trying to relay to him that she understood, that she wasn't going to be immature about it, and that when she said _adore you to pieces_, she meant, she did too... actually, more so now that she was learning more and more about what sort of stuff he was made of. Loyalty. Devotion. Verity. A pinch of Asshole.

"Hell, man!" Axel interrupted, parading inside the room with Carl and Hershel behind him. "You said she was fine! That's not my own definition of fine..." he complained, not exactly in an angry tone, but in his own whiny way. Apparently, he had inquired about Summer and had received an account of what happened.

"I could've helped carry her in, at least. Anything to help the ladies, you know. Women are scarce these days... we shouldn't take chances like that," came Axel's line of reasoning. "Just my honest opinion," he added when Daryl gave him a look.

"Does it feel better now?" Carl asked, puffing his chest up, and hooking his finger over his gun holster like a little man. Summer smiled at his adorable thoughtfulness and nodded at him. "Thanks to you, and Hershel, and Carol..."

"And Daryl," Carl added. Summer nodded at him again.

"And Daryl. Everyone's been so kind to me. And I'm very thankful. And I'm really sorry for this. Won't happen again," she apologized and promised, moving her gaze to her knee. Hershel brushed it away and shook his head.

"It's nothing," he said. "Although, you couldn't have made this much damage on your knee just from climbing up that tower..." Hershel commented in passing.

"Yeah, what happened to you?" Leave it to Axel to ask the damnable question just to be able to re-join the conversation!

She assumed she could get away with it without answering, but after a few moments of dead silence, with Carl blinking at her in expectancy, Hershel staring steadily, and Axel's head cocked sideways and eyebrows lifted high up his forehead, she had the feeling she needed to say something.

She swallowed thickly, turning her dark eyes on her redneck enigma, throwing him a silent plea to be her friend for this one moment and frigging help her. She needed inspiration for a lie. Anything. Truth, at this moment, was not an option.

_Hey Carl... it's because I was doing..._ NO.

Daryl's jaws were tightly set. She was on her own. And wouldn't you know it, she just couldn't form a single conceivable excuse in that head of hers, currently being flooded by vivid memories of her and Daryl in that hot and awkward encounter.

"I... I'm sorry," she stammered. "I guess I just... wanted to do something productive... so I tried for some, uhm, vigorous... exercise?" Yes. It was very unoriginal, and she saw Daryl redden at the use of his own words. And so, in lieu of yet again, the growing awkwardness, and the irateness in his blood-infused brain, he decided to pick up his crossbow and make his escape. He shoulda done that a long time ago.

"Goin' back out ta keep watch," he muttered, walking away.

"Well," Hershel started when Daryl was gone. "You didn't undo the stitches on your stomach, and that's good. I think that one on your leg just ain't healing right because it's from an arrow Daryl uses for the walkers..." he trailed, and looked at her thoughtfully, as if wanting to say more about the topic, but instead, he sighed and said, "You go lie down and get some rest. We'll have dinner in a bit."

* * *

Carol was really nice to go and deliver Daryl's dinner over to him when he refused to come inside and eat with the group.

"He's having one of those days," Carol shrugged with knowing fondness as she sat down beside Summer with her bowl of grub. Everyone was '_home_', everyone was safe, eating dinner together like a big family, doing small talk, making plans for tomorrow. Summer had never felt this kind of warmth from people for a very long time. They may be wary and still ridden by myriads of sorrows unknown to her, but still, their warmth made her smile.

"How are your injuries?" Rick asked as dinner dwindled down to finish.

"Much better, thank you," Summer answered, gingerly putting down her spoon. She had rightly established that Rick was the chief of the group, and had seen this conversation coming.

"Good, good," nodded Rick, and she just couldn't help but notice how deep the furrows on his face really were. He must have carried an unbelievable burden.

"Listen," Rick began. "We've been wanting to ask you some questions..." he waited until she nodded in acquiesce, then continued, "Those scratches on your arm... you're certain they're from a walker?"

"I am," she nodded once.

"That explains the fever then. But you didn't turn. You're the very first person we've come across with that survived the fever. Do you know why?" Everybody fell silent as they perked up and waited for her answer. She just blinked. "Were you given a cure? Is there a cure?" Rick had that hopeful desperation in his eyes.

She shook her head slowly, "I don't know," she breathed out. "I should be dead... or turned... I got bit when this whole thing first broke out."

"You got bit? Where?" asked Carl, almost too eagerly.

Summer chuckled. "Just below my ass... butt," she corrected, when Rick flinched at her use of language. "The scar's still there, if you wanna see," she joked, earning a snicker from the kid and those around him.

"No, thank you," Carl answered timidly, gaining an approving pat on his back from Hershel.

"So what happened?" Beth asked this time. "After you were bit."

"My cousin Joanne, she saved me. Didn't give up on me... even when my own boyfriend had wanted to put a bullet through my head. The douche abandoned us first thing when I got the fever. I was delirious, I didn't know what was happening. But she's super smart, you know, my cousin. She was doing her doctorate in Medical Science before all this... and I don't know what she did or how she did it, but she saved me. Got me through it."

"Where is she now?" Rick asked, almost anxiously.

Summer's lips pursed and curled, slightly quivering. Like a flood, it all came back to her again. And now, she could hear Joanne's screams vibrating in her ears... still feel the desperate grip of her hand on hers when she tried to pull her up to safety... still taste that paralyzing anguish when her hand slipped limply as life ebbed away from her once bright brown eyes.

"I lost her..." she choked. She'd never said it out loud before. There was nobody to tell it to, but now that she did, it all felt freshly anew, but at the same time... freeing.

"We got overwhelmed. It was just the two of us. I couldn't do anything to save her. After all she's done for me... After all she's done for me..." She wiped on her eyes frantically as the torrent of tears rolled down her face.

"I'm sorry," Carol's beautiful large eyes looked into her blurry ones with gentle empathy, and her warm, motherly hand went to Summer's trembling shoulder, and there rubbed soothingly.

"S-sorry..." Summer gulped as she tried to get a hold of herself.

Carol shook her head gently. "No... don't be. We've all lost family, friends... it's not easy."

"No, it's not," Summer inhaled deeply as she composed herself, calming down to Carol's touch.

"But she must have discovered a cure or something, or you wouldn't be alive. Did she tell you anything?" It was Oscar who asked a moment later.

"No, but she wrote on her journal a lot when we weren't on the move, and I've spent the last two months trying to figure out what was written on it, but I don't have any medical background as it is, so most of it is Greek to me, I'm sorry."

"And this journal?" asked Hershel with great interest.

"I lost it with my pack the same day Glenn and Daryl found me," she frowned.

They nodded, taking in all the information she'd just told them.

"Well, you can stay here with us for as long as you need to. I think we all agree with that. Take your time to heal before you set off, or decide to stay with the group permanently if you're willing to cooperate and pull your own weight. Daryl's right, it's wrong to throw you back out there on your own, but it's your decision," Rick proposed.

Her eyes widened, and she could feel her heart beating out of her chest. She held her breath, taking in the expectant faces around her._ To be part of this group._ She wished this so badly, and it's being handed to her on a silver platter. She closed her eyes before she let the words fall from her mouth...

"Thank you... I'll stay," she said, earning a few smiles from them. "But not for long..." she added slowly, almost regrettably. "I need to keep going west... to California," she smiled faintly.

"You're crazy! That's more than a couple thousand miles away," exclaimed Glenn. Summer scratched her head._ So that's how far she still needed to go. Shoots._

"Whatever it takes," Summer answered, her words also directed to herself. _Whatever it takes._

"Why California?" Maggie asked.

"That's where my family is... my mom, my dad, my brothers..."

"How do you even know they're still there, or if they're still even alive?" butted in Axel carelessly, and that gained him an elbow to his gut from Oscar.

"You don't know anything about family, man," Oscar scolded him, he himself feeling glum at the thought of his own family.

Summer smiled wanly. "Well, I guess I just have to believe they're still alive. Otherwise, _what else have I got to live for_?" she shrugged. "You're welcome to join me if you want," she added in a jest. "I'm planning on taking a ship, loading it up to the brim with supplies, sail off to Hawaii with my family... claim an island, kill off all the walkers in it, plant pineapples, start anew..."

Carol chuckled beside her. "Sounds like you've had it all figured out."

"But to do that... you first need to get to California... which is more than two thousand miles away," pointed Glenn. "Still too crazy for me."

"Family. It's worth it," she looked up at them with determined eyes.

* * *

Her words hung in the air as Daryl stood there unmoving, just a few feet from the door. He had stopped to listen in on the conversation with great curiosity, deciding not to barge in coz he felt a little awkward waltzing in there while Summer was talking about how her cousin had died.

He couldn't deny that he smiled when she said she was going to stay with them. _But what the fuck? California?_! Did she just say she was going to turn down the offer of a place in the group to leave for California? He'd never been to California before, heck he hadn't been outside the state! And this tiny woman wants to take on the world and the million fuckers who want to eat her alive, and according to nerdy Glenn, travel more than two thousand miles to get there, and for what?

_"That's where my family is..._" came her answer.

"Shit," Daryl whispered under his breath. For a minute there, he was afraid that the girl has more balls than he did. He thought of Merle. Surely, he did everything he could possibly do for him, right? That bastard only had to wait. He came back for him. Besides, she said it herself. This was his family now. Rick, Hershel, Glenn, Maggie, Carol, Carl, Beth... Little Ass Kicker, even the two ex-cons tossed into the group. He'd hoped she'd be part of it... but no, she'd rather suicide and chase little rainbows all the way to stupid California. _Dumb as fuck plan._ She'd never make it. Hell, he's gonna bet his ass, she won't even make it out of Georgia, the way her brain was workin'... or in this case, not workin'!

_"Family. It's worth it."_ her silvery voice echoed through the empty prison cells and deep into his soul. She's one hell of a dreamer, she is, and what ticked him most was that part of him wanted to believe that she wasn't that crazy, that she could do it, that it's all attainable. _Dreaming against all reason, with the world gone to hell._ With a sigh, he took a step forward towards the doorway to make his appearance.

* * *

_**What would you live for if you found yourself in a ZA?**_


	7. Let's Shake Hands On It

_**Author's Note:**__ Hey everyone! Thank you so much for giving this fic a shot :) And everyone who took time to leave a review, or a little encouragement.. I really appreciate it. Sorry for the __**major**__ delay too. It was a hectic week :(( But we'll make it through this fic, I promise :)_

_OH! And also I've found someone pretty awesome to beta-read for us, so you guys can enjoy a bit more quality, yeah? :) I think you guys deserve it :D_

_This is personally one of my favorite chapters :) So I hope you enjoy it as much as I had fun with it._

* * *

**CHAPTER VII**

**Let's Shake Hands On It**

* * *

"You can move into my cell tonight, take the lower bunk," Carol smiled as she stood and took Summer's emptied bowl from her hands. It was a nice gesture, and although it was somewhat impractical to move her nest now, she wasn't going to turn this offer down. A little more warmth for her heart in a cold, cold world is always welcome...

"Thanks," Summer beamed, the thought of sleep suddenly becoming very appealing to her. She caught her yawn in her hand, and wiggled her toes, the way she does when she falls into that spell. Her eyelids grew heavy.

"So... how'd you get bit? If... you don't mind telling," Axel wiped on his mouth with his sleeve as he finished his soup.

"It was at the airport..." she reminisced lazily as she reached down her combat boots to lace them properly. She usually gets excited talking about her scars and battle wounds, but she just wasn't feeling it tonight. "Me and my cousin were supposed to fly out from the city, but everything went to hell in there and it was complete chaos. People running everywhere. We got separated, and I face planted on the parking lot trying to look for her, and before I knew it, somebody was eating my bum," She tried to be brief with the narrative. She was tired, but was also looking forward to check out the cells this group had been using as living quarters. She decided she should do so now.

"Do you feel... different? Like... y'know, after you got bit and had the fever and such? Anything change?" Axel rubbed his chin as he regarded her with another one of his random, probing questions.

"Nope..." Summer answered absentmindedly, now grabbing the stick Carl had found for her to help her walk. She grunted as she pushed herself up. Axel tried to walk over to help her but she put up her hand, stilling him.

"Nothing?" Axel hummed as he backed off to give her space.

Summer grunted inwardly, and then snorted when her brain wrapped around a ridiculous epiphany, "Well, If there is something that's changed after _this_ fever, it's that I've suddenly become really _horny_." She managed to stand, comfortably spreading her weight between her good leg and her stick.

_Horny._

Ahh... somewhere, the word was floating there in the air... If only she could trap it in her hands and shove it back her impossibly unfiltered mouth before.. _Oh, dear Jesus._..

Clangs of falling metal bowls were heard from the other side of the room where Carol and Maggie were putting stuff away. And then silence. A deep and vigilant silence, until...

"Horny, what's that?" Curious Carl piped up.

A sputtering fit of badly withheld laughter instantly erupted from Glenn, shaking and clinging onto Oscar who was also trying to cover his mouth with his fist. Rick had that look of paternal panic on his face, and to her horror, Axel was looking at her with wide, twinkling eyes and a shuddersome, open-mouthed smile. Even Hershel was petrified where he sat, probably scarred forever by her sudden confession.

"Corny!" she yelled hastily. "I meant, corny! God! Oh my God!" Her ears burned.

"N-naw, I'm positive I heard horny," Axel interjected. "I can do something about that..."

"Axel!" Rick barked. "Carl, Beth... come with me! Now!" he demanded, and shepherded the children into their cells, away from the bad air. Great, now Rick would think her a creeper and not allow her inside the cells or near the children ever again.

"Well... you were talkin' to me... I make ya feel that way? My, my," Axel shimmied where he stood, then started inching his way towards her with a new sway to his walk.

"Oh my God! No!" Summer flashed her eyes across the room, looking for help from anyone, but they were still helplessly laughing at her expense to be able to notice her rising panic. Even Carol and Maggie's shoulders shook as they covered their mouths with their hands.

Her eyes were tightly shut when his voice boomed through the mess of it all. And when she opened them, there he was, her blue-eyed redneck enigma, standing in the middle of the room with his empty tin bowl in his white knuckle, a mighty scowl on his face, and a belligerent finger jabbing the air in Axel's direction.

* * *

"She wasn't referrin' to you!" Daryl barked. Damn, was his voice angry. He had been silently watching the exchange ever since he'd entered the room. She hadn't noticed him at all, but his eyes instantly found themselves hovering over to her direction whenever she opened her mouth. He didn't like it when Axel probed on her like that, and a protective air took over him, one that instantly vanished when she sputtered out that word, and now he was just pissed.

_Horny_.

Right in front of Carl, Beth and the baby. But he wasn't really angry about that. Hell, he'd known what that word meant even before he'd stepped into any form of school. What he was mad about was that she had been speaking _to_ Axel when she'd said it.

He could have laughed with the others, what with the face she was making now, but he couldn't bring himself to. Instead, he seethed. He didn't know where his line of reasoning was suddenly coming from, but he had this fairly new notion that _that_ word, when it came from her mouth, should only belong to him. Somehow, his befuddled brain had wrapped around this idea that he had some sort of ownership to it by virtue of recent events.

So, when Axel had his own little notion that he and his squirrel-faced self had made her feel that way, Daryl couldn't help it when he reacted, "She wasn't referring to you!_",_probably a little more heatedly than he was supposed to.

The rising crescendo of his voice stilled the room, every eye now captive to him. "Best you stop persterin' the girl," he added snappily before anyone had time to mull over his rather odd protestation, a finger still pointed threateningly at the ex-con.

"What's your problem?" Axel dared to retort, albeit, he wasn't retorting all that violently. Hershel decided it was time for him to finally get off his bum and put his years of wisdom into some use. He cleared his throat rather forcefully and slammed one of his crutches on the table.

"I think that's enough," he said. "I'm sure it was just a slip up. A very unfortunate one, I might say," he turned to Summer, a mix of a smile and a frown. "I must admit some of us found it very amusing, but I think it's best if we drop it now before it gets out of hand." Hershel's eyes scanned through the room to make sure he was being heard. "Let's all simmer down..." he looked at Daryl, who blinked his narrow eyes and pursed his lips, shrugging. "And Axel, for goodness' sakes, give Summer some space and don't freak her out..."

"Hell, don't lay a finger on 'er," Daryl couldn't help but clarify when Hershel resorted to euphemism. "Me and Glenn didn't go through all that shit to save her just so..." he grunted.

"Hey, hey! I won't force myself on anybody! I swear!" Axel defended himself. Meanwhile, Rick came walking back into the room by himself, with hands on his hips, and his jaws tightly set.

Summer wanted to fall down on her knees and grovel at his feet. "Rick..." she begged, "I'm so, so sorry... I didn't mean to... I'm not a creeper..."

Rick walked towards her with a purpose. He stood just an arm's length from her and looked down into her eyes before he broke into a wide grin and started chuckling himself.

"That was priceless," he patted her shoulder twice before he looked around the room, still with the smile on his face that she had never seen him wear before. "I had to tell Carl that horny was some sort of loop in the head you got after getting a delirious fever," he chortled, and the whole room with him.

"We haven't had a good laugh like this one in a looong time," said Carol, wiping an eye.

"Came out of nowhere," agreed Glenn.

Summer didn't know what to feel. Relieved? That they found her somewhat funny? She moved her eyes to Maggie who just nodded in agreement, and then to Hershel, who just shrugged with a small smile under his beard.

"Daryl's right though, Axel, don't you get any ideas..." Rick warned concernedly, but still in good humor.

"Again, I'm not one to force myself on anybody," he threw up both his hands, feeling a little frustrated.

"Alright, alright," Rick eased.

"So... are we cool?" Summer asked timidly. As far as she was seeing it, these people weren't going to kick her out, or lock her in this room again with a handcuff, but she thought it might be best to ask.

"We're cool," Rick assured her. "Just, watch it in front of the children, clear?"

"I promise."

Rick nodded in understanding.

"Oh, and, Carol? Are you still going to let me sleep in your cell tonight?" Summer asked, just in case.

Carol chuckled lightly. "Of course, sweetie. Don't worry about it already. We had a good laugh out of it," Carol shook her head in good humor, " It's going to be _a riot_ just having you around... at least for as long as we can keep you."

Daryl snorted. _A riot. Don't I know it._ He rolled his eyes and placed his bowl together with the others before walking straight back outside. He's finding he's been needing more and more fresh air recently.

* * *

She breathed deeply before she took another step. He was sitting there on the ground, his back against the chained fence, an arm resting on a propped up knee. His head was tilted to the heavens, and he languidly chewed on a straw of grass trapped between his slender lips. He looked so at peace that she hated the thought of breaking his spell. But well...

"Daryl?" Summer whispered tentatively. He didn't move. Maybe he didn't hear. She fiddled with the bottom part of her earlobe, the way she did when she got nervous. She breathed in another shaky breath and took another two steps forward.

"Uhm.." she started, then paused. Her crossbow-wielding redneck turned his head slightly, not really looking at her, but merely acknowledging her presence. "Uhm, I don't think I could really sleep without talking to you first?" she explained in a hushed, inquiring tone.

He lifted his eyes to her, an eyebrow hoisting upwards as he considered her. His mouth slightly pursed to the side before he cocked his head, motioning that it's okay for her to come nearer. "Alright," came his low, distinct drawl.

She hurriedly moved towards him, as best she could in her injured condition, and for a second, didn't know where to place herself. She resolved to settle right across him, slowly easing her weight down with the help of her stick, in a way that won't bother her knee, so she could sit on the ground as well. His hand quickly found its way to her elbow, supporting her until she was comfortably seated.

"Thanks," she smiled lightly as his hand retreated. Slowly, she dared to look up into his face. "Ah... what an awkward day, huh?" Her nose crinkled at her own question.

He snorted, rolling his narrow eyes, making his brows quirk in a way that was distinctly him.

"I'm sorry," Summer grimaced as she willed herself to say the words looking straight into his eyes to make him grasp that she was truly, and sincerely apologizing. "I'm sorry for putting you in that position... you know, for making you feel uncomfortable?" She searched his cold, blue eyes that were looking down at her intently. When he didn't say anything, she found her hand nervously scratching the back of her neck and her head moving sideways to look away.

"I'm not usually like this. I am not a creep," the voice that came out of her was almost like a whine, like she was about to cry, and that brought about a small, crooked smile from him.

"But ya are somethin'," he asserted, his tone a mixture of good-natured sarcasm and bewilderment.

"Ah, well. I haven't really been around real people in such a long time, so apparently, my social skills have gone to the gutters. And I wasn't exactly Miss Appropriate to begin with, even when the world was still right. But never this way, though. It's going to kill my mom if she found out about today..." she trailed, crinkling her nose again at how she found it so easy to spill her guts to him so carelessly. He stayed silent, nibbling on that straw of grass, making Summer look yearningly at his lips.

"Mmm.. you think we can be in good terms even after this? You know, start over? I know I won't be here permanently, but... I might be here for a couple weeks maybe three? I'll heal up and gather enough supplies for the road trip... and hopefully give back to the group as much as I can before I leave... but I still want us to be in good terms, even in the short while I am here?" she reasoned, looking up at him with hopeful eyes. "Daryl?"

* * *

There was something about the way she said his name that tugged on strings inside him. It was her silvery voice... and the clear as crystal way she'd say that first syllable and then slur the next, like she was rolling the R carefully so as to not arouse any semblance of harshness in it before she barely sounds the L at the last. Da-rhyl.

He swallowed before he nodded his head, trying to be casual, "Yeah, whatever."

It actually sounded like a great idea. Be on good terms. Start over. Get to know her in the normal fashion. All he had to do was to _preten_d that he wasn't still mentally seeing her sweaty, almost-naked form getting off on... (to his now knowledge), her thoughts of him. He'd have to pretend he'd forgotten that the_ first time_ he had ever heard his name pass her lips was when she had just brought herself to a whining climax that he's still hearing at the back of his head.

"Sounds good ta me," he croaked, agreeing to her again. He saw her small, heart-shaped face instantly drain of anxiety and her wide, infectious smile unfolded before him.

"Ah! Sweet! I'll do my best..." she said, eyes twinkling. "So, let's forget about today and tomorrow we'll be friends?"

He huffed. "I didn't say we'll be friends. I said, I'm agreein' to startin' over," he corrected, trying his best to keep a stoic face.

"Alright, then. Sounds like a plan... let's shake hands on it?" she reached out and offered her right hand towards him, her head tilted in child-like expectation. He glanced down at her hand, then her face, and then back at her hand again. He wiped his palm on his shirt before he slid his fingers around her small, dainty ones and gripped them firmly. She smiled at him, and her soft fingers pressed his, lifted the weight of his arm, and shook his hand twice.

"Thanks, Daryl," she grinned, letting him go, a feeling of loss haunting him as their skins disconnected. "I better go back to Carol now. I told her I won't be a while..." She grabbed her stick and struggled to get up. Daryl stood to help her, but she was already standing before he could touch her again.

"Thanks for taking the time to talk," she said as she turned, and he watched her retreating back limp away. Part of him was relieved she was gone, but the better part of him wanted for her to stop and come back to him. She was halfway towards the door when the universe decided to grant the latter wish.

"Oh," her voice was tentative. "I left you hangin' earlier with a question."

"What?" he asked, confused.

"You asked me earlier... why I touched myself thinking about you?" she filled in, turning around to face him.

_Son of a... Didn't they just agree to fuckin' start over?! What is she on? What part of 'Forget about today' was she not getting?_

"You don't have to answer that!" he growled.

"No, no.. hear me out first. Just hear me out. I want you to know," she argued, completely facing him now with resolute eyes. "I think you have the right to know. You saved me, shot that walker through its filthy mouth, with great aim before it could take a bite out of me. You dragged me out under those dead bodies with strong hands. Assured me with your very blue eyes... And you said, 'I'll git ya outta here', and got me out, you did. And I guess I just... I just started seeing you as this hero person... that I could, you know, _get together with_. And you _are_ beautiful, to begin with. I think you're really hot, actually, and I mean no malice in saying that, and I guess, my mind just went ahead and played..." she paused momentarily, then heaved a sigh before continuing.

"But you know, I was dead wrong about you..." Her words rang in the air. Daryl held his breath, trying to figure out how he should be feeling at the moment. _Had she just called him beautiful? Hot? Praised him like no other woman ever had in his whole entire life, and then slap it back his face by saying she was what, dead wrong?_

"You're not... you're not that simple, Daryl," she continued, before he could form any other thoughts. "I hope you're getting what I mean. You're more complex, more...layered, I guess, like an onion... or, or.. the rings of planet Saturn. Heck," she tugged on her ear and rolled her eyes shyly away from him before meeting his gaze again. "I don't know... I'm not good at this. But know that you're not just some guy I can just look at and say..._'Hmmm, he's a nice screw_..'. and that's it. Because, I realize now that you're more than that. And I'm sorry I thought so otherwise before... because you're worth getting to know, Daryl. That's what I think. So there." She inhaled deeply and exhaled as sharply, as if a heavy weight had just lifted from her shoulders.

"So... are we cool?" she managed, a small, self-conscious smile.

"Huh?" was the single sound that came out of his mouth. What was he supposed to say? Was he supposed to say something back to her? Was he supposed to say thank you? Yes? Okay? Great, come again tomorrow? Oh, and by the way, I think you're pretty hot too? He didn't even know what to feel. In all reality, he felt like an unknown universe had just opened up to him, and his heart pounded out of his chest, even when he didn't really understand everything that she had just said. What with the planet Saturn and onions... But hell, she said.. _You're worth getting to know..._and his heart felt heavy, like for the first time it held something. Something significant. Something pleasant and warm.

"We cool?" she asked again, more nervously now.

He nodded mutely in return. Right now it was the only thing he could do.

"Okay, _now,_ we can start over" she grinned, snapping back instantly to her sunshiney-smiley way, and waved a hand. "Goodnight Daryl, see ya tomorrow. Thanks again, you're awesome," she said and finally made her way successfully inside without blowing another bomb on his face. His mind was turning, trying to rewind every word that she'd just said.

"What in the hell..." he breathed. _How was he to go around with this?_ He shook his head then stayed still for a while, eyes far up to the heavens where somewhere, Saturn and its rings hung suspended in the darkness of the universe. The humid, evening air wrapped around him where he stood, planted on earth, and he sniffled, absentmindedly bringing his hand up his nose to swipe on it.

That simple gesture made his eyes slowly widen just as his fingers brushed his nostrils, and a small shiver ran down his spine. It was very faint, that at first he thought he was just imagining it, but it was there... his nose smelled her, her sweet, musky scent, right there on his hand. He had taken it from her from that innocent, and fatal handshake.

_Planet Saturn and Onions. The shameless woman didn't have the mind to wash her hand..._


	8. Sky and Asphalt

_**Author's Note:**__ Wow! You got this far into this fic! :) YAY! Can't say I'm not excited that you're tuning in! :)) So, how is it so far, you guys? :)) I really hope I get better at writing so I can make each chapter worth your time! :D_

* * *

**CHAPTER VIII**

**Sky and Asphalt**

* * *

After that freeing conversation with her layered redneck Daryl, well, at least for her part, Summer felt like a million bucks... or rather, a million bullets and a can of Spam, to be more relevant to present times. She even forgot about the mess of mindless, men-eating hobos outside the walls, for once in her apocalyptic life. Her mom had taught her how to be honest and straightforward to people she cares about (lying to enemies is okay), and she kinda felt proud of herself for having done a fantastic job of it today, if she must say so herself.

She couldn't wait for the sunrise to bring tomorrow, looking forward to it, and not just looking forward to survive. She couldn't wait to start over, to get to know him more. She was ridiculously excited, enough that she couldn't seem to remember how to fall asleep. It's a good thing Carol was also feeling awake and chirpy.

Summer really liked Carol. She liked her bad-ass haircut, and her large, expressive eyes, like endless pools of blue- her favorite color. She loved how Carol emanated this soothing calm and gentleness that made her feel at home whenever she was around her. Living in a hoosegow wasn't her thing anyway. Her dad was in prison for a while, and she hated the fact that he had to be cooped up in something like this for some few years. And although their old man wasn't exactly very present in their lives while she and her brother were growing up, he was still their father. And the times that he did spend time with them when he could, he proved to be one hell of a great dad. And that's what she tells Carol. She just hoped she doesn't ask her how he had gotten himself in prison, or that would be a little awkward.

"So, you lived with your mom and your step-dad?" Carol asked instead.

Summer smiled as she nodded at her from her mattress on the floor. She had felt bad about having Carol climb up to the top bunk, especially when she had to climb down from it every once in a while for the baby, so they've resolved to moving Summer's mattress on the floor instead, so Carol can just stay on the lower perch like before. It was perfect.

They've been talking like this for a while now, in hushed tones, so they don't wake anybody. The empty prison cells had a way of catching any stray sound and going to town with it with the echoes. Every once in a while, they'd burst out cackling, and they'd hear somebody from the other cells stir and grunt, and they'd snap their mouths shut. But not for long.

They chatted. Just random things at first, nothing too personal. Testing the waters, as it were. The question about Summer's family was the first one of its nature, but it didn't feel too touchy or forced. It actually felt like another wary wall between them had been razed, and Summer loved it. She reveled and absorbed this much needed human interaction she'd been starved from for months.

"And you have a twin brother?" Carol repeated, and Summer had to grin. She loved talking about her twin, whether to show him off or talk trash about him... like all healthy siblings do.

"Yup. Hudson," she sighed tenderly.

"You two were close, huh?"

Summer snorted. "We _are_. I'm older than him by twenty minutes... but he's always acting like he's the older twin, you know, just because he's better than me in most things.. save from getting into trouble," she winked at Carol and earned a snigger. "He looks just like our dad... which makes him mom's official favorite. And I look like my mom... But it goes the other way around with our personalities. Mom says I'm immature like our old man, which doesn't really help my case, but oh well," she chuckled. "We're complete opposites, me and Hudson... but we managed not to kill each other growing up, thanks to our wonderful mom. She raised the both of us all on her own until we were eight... she's amazing. Love her to pieces. Then she met this other great guy, who eventually became our step-dad. He's cool too... but moms, moms are the real deal, moms are heroes," Summer concluded. Carol just hummed and fell into such quiet contemplation, that Summer was afraid she'd bored her to sleep. She was wrong though, coz when she turned to look at the older woman's face, she was met by eyes that were spilling tears down her narrow face.

"Oh!" Summer gasped, trying to figure out what happened.

Carol blinked and gingerly wiped her tears with shaky fingers, then heaved a great sigh. "I was a mom once... I had a little girl..." she choked, her voice so soft and little, Summer barely caught her words. But she did, and her heart instantly broke.

"Oh, Carol... I'm so sorry," Summer sat up and gently placed her hand on Carol's shoulder, stroking it the way Carol did on hers when it was her that was crying earlier that day. She didn't expect the broken mother to open up to her, but she did, telling her how beautiful Sophia was, her small freckled face, her golden brown hair that caught the sunlight... how there was this herd of walkers, how they lost her on the highway, and into the woods with two geeks on her tail... how they searched for her, how Daryl searched for her every single day and got hurt doing so... how it was cruel that they had to find her the way that they did.

"I'm not... I'm not a hero," Carol spat bitterly. "I couldn't save my own child, my little girl, and I miss her," her sobs were quiet, as if she was used to having to cry soundlessly. Summer was at a loss for words. She felt like a dick, and she didn't know how to fix this. But she had to try.

"Don't you blame yourself for that, Carol..." she told her, in a soft but firm voice. "It wasn't you who let those filthy, disease-bearing, poxy bastards out on the loose in this world. That wasn't your fault. And you loved Sophia with everything you had, she..."

Carol chuckled softly before Summer could add to it. A small, sad smile graced her tear-drenched face as she looked at her. "Disease-bearing, poxy bastards..." she repeated. "Daryl used those exact same words on a walker once... the exact same words," she said, pursing her lips into a fond smile, and breathing a little calmer now.

_Ah, so Carol thought about Daryl with this kind of affection... one that made her smile like that, and be at rest when she talked about him..._

Summer forced that thought to the back of her brain and focused on Carol, "Really? I thought that was original..." she complained in a jest, trying to lighten up the atmosphere. Carol managed to smile at that, and her tears stopped falling. She sighed, "We better get some sleep," gently patting Summer's hand that was on her shoulder.

"Yeah..." Summer agreed. She crawled back to her bed, musing on the conversation she just had with her new cellmate. She got a little glimpse of her sad past, of this group's past, and judging from her story, they've lost more than just Sophia since then. Like, Rick's wife. On the day she had woken up, he had introduced everyone, his son, his daughter... but not the mother of his children. More and more, she found herself wanting to know them, wanting to do something for them. She softly chuckled at that last thought. At her current state, all she was to these people was a troublesome burden. She'd have to give back when she recovers, and she needs to recover fast.

As she drifted off to sleep, her thoughts settled on none other than her favorite, irascible, crossbow-toting redneck, and the new morsel of knowledge she had about him, searching for Sophia like that. Going out of his way to save the helpless wasn't a new thing to him, after all.

_Ah, Daryl. You have to stop making me admire you more and more... or else I'll never get to California._

She slept soundly that night, uninterrupted by her usual nightmares.

* * *

Summer woke up to Little Ass Kicker crying at the crack of dawn. There were hushed, nervous murmurs drifting about the cellblock, and she perked her ears up to listen in. All she got was that Rick, Daryl, Glenn, and Maggie were already gearing up to go for a supply run, which was unusual for them at this time of day. Something must be out of sorts.

She scrambled to her feet with the help of her handy-dandy stick and limped out of her cell. Glenn and Maggie had already marched out, and Rick was talking to Hershel with that grim, but determined look on his face. Little Ass Kicker was wailing her little lungs out, jabbing the air, and looking really, really bothered. Hershel held her out to Rick so he could kiss her.

"Be careful, dad," she heard Carl say, to which Rick just nodded in reply, then he headed out. And that's when she saw Daryl, by the doorway, crossbow slung on his back, his attention fixed on Carol who was saying something to him, her hand on one of his shoulders. He had this look of gentleness on his face as he listened to her, that Summer found her feet unable to move forward. Her lips pursed as she felt a heaviness in her chest that was foreign to her.

Daryl nodded at Carol, and then turned to Hershel to take his leave. His eyes must have caught her standing there just outside the holding room, because he turned to her somewhat tentatively and gave her a very hasty nod before he disappeared.

And that was their new start. Summer wanted to feel glum, but at the moment, she decided to push that aside and instead bring her attention to the baby, and try to make herself as useful as possible to everyone.

When she had asked what was wrong, and had learned that the baby hadn't had formula since yesterday, she felt like her heart just made a dive into the Slough of Despond. What a cruel, unforgiving world, this beautiful, precious thing had inherited from them.

"What can I do to help?" she asked immediately, to which they just answered with silence and exchanged glances.

"Uhm, you can try and see if you can make her stop crying? She likes Daryl and for some reason he knows just how to calm her down. Maybe you can try if she likes you?" Beth suggested, glancing up at her dad, inquiringly, making sure it was okay.

Summer leaned her stick on the table and stretched her arms to Beth. Her heart pounded at the thought that she was going to hold a tiny little thing in her arms, so fragile and so precious, and she felt nervous and excited all at the same time. Hershel watched with keen attention, moving closer to them, as if he was afraid Summer would drop her.

Beth was positioning Little Ass Kicker in her grasp, so she could hand her over to Summer, when Summer, retreated her arms, and aghast, said, "Oh, wait... I'm filthy." She looked down at her grungy self and looked to Hershel and Carol for guidance. "Is there somewhere I can..." she trailed and Carol understood, leading her shortly to get washed.

* * *

It was the only shower room in the whole of the prison which wasn't infested with walkers. It was one of those communal ones with multiple shower heads in a row, and you had to try out each one to see which worked to your liking. Summer found out, the further you went to the left, the higher the water pressure gets, so she chose the seventh to the left, and named it _Seventh Heaven_.

She hadn't had a taste of running water in weeks. She'd been washing herself in creeks, little ponds and farm wells, which cleaned her well enough, but this... was a luxury. Plus, she hadn't been this completely naked in so long too, without being too paranoid about having to run around the woods naked if a rapist or a walker suddenly jumped out of the bushes.

She ran the sliver of soap across her arms, down her legs, and on her belly, smiling at the way her wound there was healing beautifully. Even her knee was cooperating. She'd always been a fast healer, which is especially handy now in the world she's living in. But she did grimace down at the pool of water and soapsuds by her feet, murky with what she supposed was about three pounds of accumulated dirt and grime washed off of her, mostly from her long, tangled-up raven locks.

"Good Lord..." she muttered in disbelief. How must have she looked like? She didn't even give a thought to her appearance all this time, and for all she knew, she might as well had been sporting a full-on military-camouflage on her face. No wonder she wasn't getting any points with Daryl._ Ah, there she went again, thinking about him. Here in the shower... while she was naked..._

She shook her head violently. This wasn't the time to be doing that, Shameless. She let the cold water wash her down as she stayed still under its spray. Her mind went back to that day they first met... Glenn had animatedly recounted the story of how he and Daryl had managed to get her out of the liquor store while she was unconscious. She chuckled when she remembered how Glenn said they all but stuffed her in the pushcart...

"The pushcart!" Summer gasped. "THE PUSHCART!" she yelled so loudly that her voice boomed and echoed throughout the shower room. She turned the shower knob quickly and as fast as she could, dried herself and got dressed.

How could that have slipped her mind? She had tipped that pushcart over, and emptied it of a boatload of baby formula, more than a dozen big-ass cans of it, just waiting there on that little alley while Little Ass Kicker was crying herself hungry!

* * *

"I know where to get milk!" she all but squealed when she burst into the room, her hair still dripping, her new, clean shirt, inside out, and her boots unlaced. Carol was nowhere to be found, but Hershel, Beth and Carl were there, and were just staring at her like they didn't hear what she had just said. She tried to catch her breath before repeating more slowly, "I know where to get the baby formula. Cans of it. It'll last her for months. I'm positive they're still there."

Excitement filled the room, but when Hershel asked where, and she'd relayed to them that it was by that shopping center where Daryl and Glenn had seen her, said excitement was shot dead.

"Absolutely not!" Hershel growled when she had proposed she could quickly get in and out of there if only someone drove her to the area. "You're not fully healed yet, young lady! And that area had almost gotten you killed once. Daryl and Glenn too! To say it's dangerous would be a grave understatement. It will be the death of you. No."

"I beg to differ!" she argued, but quickly shut her mouth when she saw Hershel's face turn red with anger. She paused, but tried a different approach. "Hershel..." She was begging now.

"Absolutely not. Now, no more of this talk until Rick and the others come back, and that's final," was Hershel's firm decision. In the end, Summer had to accede. Hershel had been extremely kind to her. It wasn't fair of her to upset him like this. And in all honesty, she was actually highly doubtful she could come out unscathed if she went to that place again in her current condition. But she hated waiting, hated doing nothing when there was something to be done.

"Alright..." she mumbled grudgingly, shuffling over to Beth and the baby.

"Don't you worry angel, don't you worry now..." she whispered. "We're gonna get you some really good milk really, really soon, I promise," Little Ass Kicker cooed at that, making Summer gasp in delight.

"I think she likes you," Beth smiled. "Here, you can hold her now, so I can help Carol fix us food."

Delightedly, Summer sat down and once more held her arms out, and when Beth finally settled the little bundle of sunshine snuggly in her embrace, she swelled with such tender joy at the thought that she was holding a precious miracle. "Yeah..." Summer held her closer to her chest, and she hissed as the baby's weight fell on her stitches.

"You alright?" Hershel asked, concernedly.

"Mhmm..." Summer hummed as she adjusted her hold, not taking her eyes off of her. "She's beautiful..." she turned to Carl, whose proud smile said that he knew all too well. Beth handed her a baby bottle filled with water, which made Summer frown a little, but soon they were gonna fill it up with real baby milk, and that's the last she'll ever know of hunger for a long, long while.

"Your name really isn't Little Ass Kicker, is it? Although, it is a really ass-kickin' name," Summer cooed as she rocked her gently.

"Daryl gave her that name," Carl explained. "We... we really haven't thought of a good name for her yet."

"Ah... aren't you special... your big brother's being really careful choosing a perfect name for you. Mmm. It'll be perfect, just like you, sweetheart," Summer smiled. "Little Ass Kicker... that's a cool name for now. Yeah... your Uncle Daryl sure is a character, huh?"

"And I think I'm really, really falling for him... if I haven't already," she wanted to add, but had managed to keep that to herself for now.

* * *

He's a redneck. A middle-aged hick who'd done nothing in his life that made a single dent in this world. His good for nothing white trash ass had never even made it through high school. He's fucked up and broken, with scars that would never heal, turning him into this ill-tempered jackass that he sometimes had no control over. Hell, sometimes he was afraid he was becoming just like _him_. That was why he'd avoided getting involved with women as much as he could, lest he end up hurting them as he was certainly damned to do sooner or later.

The girl was naive. There was nothing worth knowing about him. Nothing.

So why did he not get a single wink last night, still arguing to himself about this? Why was he trying to convince himself that he had gone a long way from that old Daryl, and that new Daryl wasn't as feckless, and probably deserves a little freedom to explore his feelings? Maybe even to give into them? He'd tried his damnedest to change, and is still striving, to be better than his prick of an old man... to be better than what the world told him he was and ever will be. Maybe, just maybe... Summer was heaven's way of throwing him a rope. Maybe he should grab onto it. Maybe she was his saving grace. Maybe he won't end up hurting her. Maybe he could make her happy. And they'd be happy.._ Damn. What was he even saying? He even talked about her now like he's in-love with her or something!_

He's not supposed to be in-love with her, for goodness' sakes! He's no good for her. And she's... she's something else. She wasn't even what he'd usually regard as drop dead gorgeous. She is kinda pretty, in her own way, in her own, reckless kind of way, with hair sticking up in all directions, and random smudges of dirt on her mildly sun-kissed skin. She did have the most tender-looking lips the color of cherries... that broke into easy, unguarded smiles, and eyes that didn't seem to know how to lie, recklessly splaying out her emotions for everyone to behold, but... but what? She is beautiful. Infuriatingly, irresistibly so.

So? What then? She didn't plan on staying. That's the joke of it all. She'll eventually leave for California, the she-devil. Leave him hanging. All he had with her were a few days... just a few days...

Damn it.

_Damn it!_

He won't even have those few days if he didn't fucking concentrate on staying alive now. His thoughts had been away from the walkers, groaning just a few yards from where his stood, hobbling towards him. Thankfully, he must have gone into auto-pilot, because his arrows still found their dumb, rotting brains. But if he didn't get his shit together, or at least, push them to the back of his brain for now, everything could go south really fast. The bright side of that would be, he'd be as dumb as them walkers and not have to agonize over what to do with his damn feelings for her. _Feelings. Fuck. Such a sissy word and he'd already used it more than twice in a single day._

He shook his head and wiped his sweaty brows. Him and Rick had split on that fork on the road a few miles back to cover more ground, agreeing to meet up again at noon. It had been a risky move for them to split, especially for him, having no sleep from the night before. But there was no way they were going back to Little Ass Kicker without her milk. It had to be done. But now it was almost noon, and every godforsaken cupboard and every damned drawer had been dead empty. There was just this one last house.

Daryl lifted the side window and slipped inside, felling three mindless, rotting geeks before he reached the kitchen. All the cabinets were hanging open, all vacant and purged.

"Shit!" he kicked the wall in frustration.

He checked the sun outside and was sure it was already noon. He needed to get back to Rick and figure out what do do next. He was about to double back to his motorcycle when his feet halted by a room with the door creaking against the sway of the wind... like it was beckoning to him. He nudged the door open with his boot, crossbow at the ready. The harsh light glaring from the uncurtained glass windows blinded his sleep-deprived eyes for a moment, but as soon as his eyes focused, his heart quickened at the sight of baby blue walls painted with butterflies, a crib sitting in the middle of it with little toys twirling above.

"Jesus..." he breathed, not knowing himself if he was actually praying.

He quickly found himself overturning everything that could be overturned, sweeping through that room without an inch slighted. When his hand snatched that can from under the sheets, and found what they had been arduously searching for, relief flooded him. The can of baby formula felt light under his touch, but opening it up with his knife, he found that there was at least enough to last a day or two. It'll have to do for now. He stuffed it in his pack, together with some other items he'd found in the room.

He dashed out of the house and soon he was mounted on his motorcycle, clipping the road to meet up with Rick then head back to their prison haven. He was almost back on that fork, when suddenly, he heard a loud pop, and he found his motorcycle skidding, and then in an instant he was seeing sky and asphalt and sky and asphalt, as he rolled on the sun-scorched road...

* * *

_**I know, I know... we were expecting some more comedy but got naught on this one... :(( But I figured we could also use some LAYERS in the story... so yeah :) But I'll make sure to get myself a happy meal before writing the next chapter, so fear not :P**_


	9. Just Like In The Fairy Tales

_**Author's Note:**__ You guise~! I'm sorry I'm not updating as much as I want to. I travel for my job, and schedule's all whacked. But I am so stoked that you guys made it here! :)) Makes my heart warm :) Well, I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I bled writing it. Really not easy trying to translate things... but here it goes!_

_PS: JazzyJane you are amazing to me :) My hero._

_& icebabesfire, I ate my happy meal in your honor :))_

* * *

**CHAPTER IX**

**Just Like In The Fairy Tales**

* * *

_"Takin' a siesta again? Is this a new habit of yours, getting shitfaced with no booze? Coz this is fuckin' deja vu!"_ Merle cackled over him. _"Hey! You look at me when I'm talkin' to you!"_

Daryl grunted, his whole body overwhelmed by a numbing heaviness that was quickly translating itself into pain. At first, his mind couldn't grasp what had happened to him, why his face was plastered on the asphalt, hot as the hinges of hell, and why Merle was buzzing in his ears, fueling a rising, throbbing headache. He could only breathe as he tried to feel for his body. He had managed to get himself in another fuck situation that warranted another delusional visit from his good ol' brother Merle. He knows he's bleeding from his head... probably what's causing the hallucination.

_"Git your shit together, Darylina! Whatcha lookin' like a sack of smashed pansies for, hm?"_ Merle spat at him. Daryl tried to twist his body so he was lying on his back, take his weight off his arm that was trapped beneath him. It took a few tries before he was able to flip himself over, and when he did, the pack he was carrying fell open, letting the little can of baby formula roll down the road and off to the dirt.

_"Holy fuck!"_ Merle exclaimed exaggeratedly as he followed the rolling can with his wide-eyed, incredulous gaze. _"You're still playin' errand boy! And what's this? Baby milk? What the hell! Tell me it ain't so, little brother. You been busy while I was away? Reproducin' and all that shit? Why, I didn't think you had it in yah!"_

"Rick... Rick's baby girl..." Daryl found himself mumbling. He spat blood from his mouth; his tongue bled from where he bit it.

_"Goddamn! You the sheriff's nanny bitch now? That's pathetic! That's sadder than a fat girl with no tits! You've gone a long ways from the light, lil bro. Next thing you know, you'll be losing your head for that Chairman Mao's niece back at your little prison home! I mean, what the fuck?"_

"You don't know nothin' bout her," Daryl grunted, trying to get his limbs to work, but failing.

_"So do you! You're a joke. After all those years of tryin' to make a man outta you, and you go ahead and do everythin' imaginable to make your life miserable..."_ Merle leans over him and grabs him by his jaw. _"But dontcha worry now, I swear to sweet lil baby Jesus ah'll find you and put you right, you hear me? Look at me. Do you hear me?!"_

"Git off of me," Daryl grunted, but suddenly, the voice calling out to him wasn't Merle's anymore, and the person crowding his vision had somehow turned into Rick. "Daryl, look at me, what the hell happened?"

"Rick..." he breathed. "What took you so long?"

"Jesus, Daryl, we need to get you out of here," Rick scanned his eyes over him, trying to figure out if he was heavily injured, then deciding upon what to do. "Here... hold on tight," He said as he slung Daryl's arm on his shoulder and tried to lift him up.

"I think I'm fine..." Daryl groaned, trying to stand on his own, but stumbling.

"The hell you are," Rick scolded and rushed to keep him steady. Daryl tried to stand on his own again, and managed this time, swatting Rick's hand away. He did feel sore whenever he had to make a step, and his vision was a little cloudy, but his pride was steel.

"Walkers..." Rick informed, pointing at two stumbling out from the woods towards their general direction. "Get in the truck, Daryl."

"Like hell I will," the redneck answered, making his way to pick up his crossbow from the asphalt. "No need to waste bullets, Rick." he said, as he painfully loaded the crossbow and shot them down.

"You're bleeding. You're not even walking straight. We need to get you to Hershel, now," argued Rick anxiously as he pulled the arrows out the undead for him. "Where are you going?" he asked as Daryl limped over to pick up the can of baby formula.

"Should last her a couple days, it has taurine, for brain development..." Daryl grinned as he handed it to Rick. He hobbled towards his bike, leaving Rick clutching at the can and staring at it as if it was a gold mine.

"Thank you..." Rick choked.

"It's what we do..." Daryl replied nonchalantly. "Damn, popped my tire. You think you can help me load this up the truck?" he lifted his eyes to Rick. He was feeling fine one moment, and then the next he was tilting to his side and was on his way to plant his face on the asphalt again.

* * *

Summer sulked beside Oscar as they both watched the dirt road for signs of Rick and the others. They were on crowd control duty, popping walkers through the fence when they numbered more than five. It was past noon and they sat there side by side in a little shade by the gate, holding their matching iron poles, slimed with walker glop.

Oscar's big shoulders shook again, and his hand clamped to his mouth to suppress another churning giggle. Men don't usually giggle. Oscar did. And it grated on Summer's nerves, especially because it was at her expense that the big guy was being so amused.

"Stop it," she hissed at him, shooting him daggers with her eyes, undaunted even by his enormous size.

"I'm trying," the gentle giant inhaled deeply, attempting a straight face. He did try, and valiantly so, but every time he looked at her, he couldn't help but remember the events of that morning.

It had been going well with Little Ass Kicker, Hershel was even delightfully surprised when the baby stopped her fussing as soon as Summer rocked her gently in her arms. She stayed sated for the most part, and when she did stir, Summer would only have to coo, and she'd be soothed. Summer was amazed herself at her apparent natural skills with infants, and she prided herself over it.

If only... if only Hershel had not asked her to sing to the baby, and if only she wasn't in such a good mood to oblige and forget that she she couldn't hold a tune to save her life. The moment she finished those first two lines, Little Ass Kicker was wailing to the high heavens and thrashing in her arms.

"That was the most horrendous rendition of whatever that song was you sang, that I have ever heard!" Oscar guffawed.

"Shut up," she stood, making her way to the fence. "And it's Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, you jerk!" she yelled as she plunged her metal pipe into one walker's eye socket.

"Damn. I didn't recognize!" Oscar was just dying from it. He had been there when she did her sorry attempt to sing, getting a drink of water before he rejoined Axel at the gate. As soon as she began singing, or caterwauling, to be more precise, he had all but died from being drowned on a glass of water.

"Ugh, she hates me now," Summer whined as she sat back down beside Oscar. Ever since that fiasco, Little Ass Kicker had been rejecting Summer altogether, and it depressed her so, and for two reasons among others. One, because she was really growing attached to the kid, and two, because she had wanted Daryl to see her being in her best, most useful form, as of yet.

"She'll come around," comforted Oscar. "But you sure scared the bejeesus out of that poor child!"

"God, it wasn't that bad, was it?" she frowned. Oscar didn't have the chance to respond, because at that moment, both their heads had turned towards the dirt road at the unmistakable sound of a vehicle approaching.

"It's Rick's truck," Oscar informed, opening the gate.

The truck pulled in and Rick came out of the driver's seat, quickly calling out to Oscar to help him.

"Did you find any..." Summer's question died in her lips as Rick opened the backseat door to reveal a bleeding, and very unconscious man. She knew instantly. Those wide shoulders, those arms now covered in scrapes and bruises, his brown, messy hair... that face, half-covered in dirt and blood...

A strangled gasp escaped her mouth. It felt like a dagger of ice had just slid into her heart, her hands and feet literally growing cold. Fear. She was drenched in it, enough that she couldn't even move, even when her brain was faintly registering that Rick was telling her something about getting a Hershel or something.

"Oh, God! What happened?!" It was Carol who came rushing forward, cupping Daryl's bloodied face in her hands. When Rick asked her to go find Hershel, she didn't even blink and went dashing back the way she came. Carol had her head together, and she was doing all she can to save this man.

Unlike herself, Miss Summer Reeds, who was motionless where she stood, because right at that moment, in the midst of all that fear... that he may not open his eyes, that she may not be able to hear his voice or feel his warmth again, she understood. She understood, without a doubt, and it terrified her even more, to realize that she had fallen for him so, enough that the very thought of him gone was unbearable to her.

* * *

Summer stood alone at the back of the crowd, fidgeting by the entryway, Daryl's crossbow, his bag, and the can of milk, all cradled carelessly in her arms. She had found them in the truck when she snapped out of her stupor.

"No broken bones," Hershel finally said after a thorough examination. At that, one could literally feel the whole room breathe relief. He started bandaging Daryl's head, shaking his own as he smiled sadly in nostalgia.

"Oh, thank heavens," Carol whispered. She knelt beside his bed the whole time, his hand clasped in one of hers, while the other wiped him down with a wet cloth.

Summer felt a lump on her throat. She had wanted to say, _"Oh, thank heavens"_ too.. while kneeling by his side and holding on to his hand. The relief she had felt at Hershel's news was beyond words, that she wanted to cry and shout for joy at the same time. In fact, a couple or three stray tears even fell from her eyes, which was ridiculous because no one else was crying, and she was the stranger. She was dumbfounded. Yes, she was fatally attracted to him. He gave her the flutters... and the wet. She'd admit obsessing over him, even, and admiring him in the non-pervy way. But she assumed she was doing so like she would have done with George Clooney. _Damn. This storm was something else._ One she'd never known before. She clutched his crossbow tighter to her chest as Hershel continued speaking.

"He's not completely out of trouble yet. He's got a concussion, but there's no telling just how much it'll affect him. We'll just have to wait and see when he wakes up, and make sure he stays put for a few days."

"Alright," Rick stood from his seat, running his hand through his hair. He went over to Beth and took Little Ass Kicker from her, nestling his daughter in his arms, whispering to her how she was loved and that she now had milk to drink. At that, Summer jumped, quickly remembering she was holding said milk, and handed it to Beth who then prepared the formula and gave it to Rick.

Another sigh of relief spread through the room as Little Ass Kicker hungrily sucked on her bottle. Rick found his smile, tender and warm, as his eyes fixed on her beautiful, tiny face. The whole room found their smiles just beholding this sight, a father and his daughter. In the world they all lived in now, one chose what to fight for and what to exist for, every single day, with life always at stake. And for Daryl Dixon, today, this was his choice.

* * *

Glenn and Maggie didn't get back until after sunset. They have found another small can of formula from a car wreck, the contents of which were also halfway depleted, but still good. They have also found other powdered milk, although, according to Hershel, would not be suitable for the baby. Rick took Oscar with him and went back to get Daryl's bike from the road, and they were back just after Glenn and Maggie drove in.

Carol never left Daryl's side, and for some reason, Summer kept her distance from them even when every nerve of her body just wanted to be as close to him as possible. It was clear as daylight. Carol loved him. What she didn't know was if Daryl loved Carol the way she had been dreading. _Yes, dreading_. She was honest with her feelings. Well, maybe he did. Him and Carol did have a long history together, in a sense. And he always had that look of softness on him when he talked to her.

"He hasn't woken up yet," Hershel startled her.

"Huh?" she blinked.

"You've been standing there craning your neck like you're gonna break it. You can go see him if you're that worried." They've put Daryl on a mattress right by the staircase against a window.

Summer shook her head slowly.

"Alright, you should come along and eat then if you're just going to stand there," he urged, patting her hand. "How's your leg?" he asked as they headed outside. Dinner was under the stars tonight, so as not to disturb Daryl.

Her leg. Her bloody knee. She had forgotten all about it. She'd been walking around without her stick ever since seeing Daryl like that. "Much better, thank you," she answered, realizing that it really was.

The group gathered outside around a small fire with their bowls of warmed canned goodies.

"How is he?" Rick asked as they joined them.

"Sleeping like a baby," Hershel replied.

"Summer, maybe if you sing to Daryl, he'll wake up," Oscar snorted, and looking at everybody's faces, she knew he had already told them about her unfortunate ululations. _Backstabber._

"Oscar, you're horrible," she shook her head gravely at him, although, at the back of her head, she thought it might work, but then again, he's already had a concussion, the poor guy.

"Might work," Carl echoed her thoughts with a silly smile on his face, and that made her smile. _Mindreader._

"Carl, I thought you cared for Daryl! He'll bleed through his ears and die... by the way you guys had been freely describing my singing prowess, I say let's not risk it," she played along.

"And besides..." she added, sitting down. "It's the prince who should be the one doing the rousing of the sleeping princess and not the other way around," she winked at him jokingly and dug into her bowl of garbanzos and peas.

"That's right," Beth's voice cut through Carl's who was just about to say something about stupid fairy tales. Instead, he let his mouth hang open as he watched Beth sway and dance Little Ass Kicker to sleep, hanging on to her next words. "And it's not through singing... It's with true love's first kiss..." she recited as dreamily and sing-songy as Disney princesses go.

_True love's first kiss..._

A thousand things happened even as Beth's melodic voice still hung in the evening air. Carl straightened up, eyes wide as saucers, blushing as he looked reverently up at dreamy Beth. Hershel narrowed his eyes at Carl, his frown quickly evolving into threatening leers when the kid tried for a smile as his daughter just happened to look at his direction. Hershel's leers went unnoticed, though, same as with Rick's sad and thoughtful sighs. Maggie and Glenn were transported to their little world of just them. She squeezed his hand and he squeezed hers. Oscar just nodded, while his buddy Axel peeked a hopeful look at Summer... who at the moment was coughing up her garbanzos, for her mind had already wandered far away... and by far away, meaning, a few yards away and through a few gates, and into that cell block where a certain redneck lay sleeping.

* * *

Summer could not sleep that night. To be more exact, she stayed vigil, eyes and ears in watchful waiting, while everybody else snoozed. Everybody except for Carol, who stayed vigil beside Daryl. She wanted to commend Carol, she did. Maggie, and even Hershel had tried to get her to rest, but she wouldn't budge. Summer even volunteered to keep watch with her, but Carol was a tough cookie.

Summer could hear the other woman sigh and busy herself about him, and like the immature person that she was, Summer wished that it was her that was taking care of this man.

Just then, she heard Carol rise, heard her footsteps lead away from the cell block. Fueled with _curiosity_, she hobbled to her doorway and peeked out to see where the older woman was heading. By the looks of it, she figured it was probably the bathroom.

Summer craned her neck then to get a glimpse of the still sleeping form of Daryl. She just wanted to get a look at him again before she slept... _just a quick look. _

A curtain of moonlight was washing over him through the tall, dusty windows, like the ones you'd see in a palace... (only this was a prison). And Daryl lay still and quiet like Sleeping Beauty waiting for her prince... (only he's a redneck).

_Just a quick look. No harm with just looking..._

Summer took a step forward, and then another, still limping lightly, but resolutely, until she found herself finally before him. Seating herself slowly at his bedside, she whispered, "I'm here...", like she had always supposed to have been. She looked at his sleeping face and smiled sadly at the scrape and bruise on his cheek and the bandage wrapped around his head. His arms also had an assortment of grazes and bruises that would make Chuck Norris proud, and her fingers instantly found their way to them, lovingly tracing each one with light, feather caresses.

"Should I sing to you now?" she laughed softly, looking back at his face. He looked different without a scowl on it, for sure, and she marveled at his unguarded features. Still a man who'd won many battles, but also like a child deep in a good dream. She traced the line of his jaw, the bridge of his nose, his cheek, touching him so gently but feeling every nerve of her fingertips memorize how his skin felt. A sigh of one in-love escaped her lungs, and she didn't even notice. How could she, when all her attention was held captive by this man?

Slowly, her eyes traveled to his mouth and there rested... "Or should I try for true love's first kiss?" she whispered, her voice coming out dreamy, and she laughed again at the chronic cheesiness of what she'd just heard herself say. But one of her fingers was already brushing those slender lips of his, feeling them surprisingly soft and supple under her touch. Her other fingers were extremely jealous for sure, but not as jealous as her own lips. No, not as jealous as her lips that she was currently biting down, while she pressed her eyes closed, trying to rein in that haunting need to feel his mouth on hers. She tried. Halfheartedly, she tried.

A passing thought came to her about him not being able to sue her for sexual harassment, because there is no government, but then she opened her eyes and looked at him again, and now she was sure that not even the threat of jail could have stopped her from what she was about to do.

"Should I kiss you now, Princess Redneck? Because, I really want to be Prince Charming right now..." she breathed, letting her hand stray to rest on his chest, feeling its steady rise and fall, feeling the heavy heart that beat there. She leaned forward, swallowing nervously, as she let her face come just a mere inch above his. She could feel his warm breath intermingle with hers, sending shivers down her spine. She licked her lips and closed her eyes, and with heart beating out of her chest, she leaned in slowly, her breath catching as she felt his scruff against her skin. Her hand on his chest curled into a ball, taking the fabric of his shirt in its cocoon. And then... and then... the electricity came, pouring into her, filling her from down her toes to the ends of her fingers, as ever so lightly, the tips of their lips touched...

"A-aahh!" a horrified squeal came from behind her, jolting her soul out of her vertebrate, and in pure panic, Summer wheeled around, and her clenched fist that was once on Daryl's heart, whipped straight towards his poor chin, yanking up his shirt and all. And then... Wham! It connected, beautifully as an uppercut that would have made Joe Frazier proud. Two things registered in her mind. One, she just punched Daryl and she was afraid to look at him, for it was possible she had already killed him. Two, Carol was staring right into her face as if she was going to murder her.

"What are you doing?!" Carol snarled, quickly shoving Summer out of the way. Daryl, who had been unconscious, was now grunting and stirring, obviously out of pain.

"God! I didn't... I didn't mean to punch him!" Summer stuttered, horrified, but also oddly elated to hear him make sounds. "Ah, he's waking up!" Summer said almost too gleefully. At that, Carol snapped her head over her shoulder and glared at her in a way that made Summer swallow her tongue. "Sorry..." she murmured in her tiniest voice.

"Daryl, how are you feeling? Are you alright?" Carol knelt beside him. He groaned, and slowly, very slowly... his eyes opened, fluttering, squinting even in the darkness of the room.

And there... there they were. Beautiful blue orbs, bright against the moonlight, and as soon as she saw them, even through his typical, scowl-narrowed lids, Summer couldn't help but smile. She smiled so wide like an idiot, she didn't even care. There was a flood of fluffy and warm overwhelming her, and she didn't have a name for it. Relief wasn't the right word. Happy wasn't really it either. But who cares... He's alive. She was so consumed by it, she didn't even notice that the cause of said flood was looking straight at her, eyes narrowing more as his brows came together in what looked like confusion.

* * *

Daryl's world was spinning. He could hear Summer and Carol's voices swimming around him, and pain coursed through his face, mainly on his jaw. His eyes fluttered open. He squinted as he focused on the woman staring right at him, smiling wide with dark, shining eyes. He knew that smile. She looked familiar... like the woman he'd just been dreaming about in his sleep... but only this one looked more radiant, almost angelic in that moonlight... this one looked a whole lot cleaner, with her long, dark locks, untangled and softly curling at the tips in reckless little twists. _Reckless. Huh._

"S-Summer?" his voice was hoarse, his eyes narrowing further to examine her face.

"Hi..." the angelic figure smiled at him, her silvery voice, unmistakable. He almost laughed.

_Angelic, huh? So the little she-devil cleaned up well, and now, more so than ever, he'd be positively lying if he said he wasn't smitten by her._

"How are you feeling?" Carol's voice called, seemingly from far away.

Daryl blinked and turned to the other woman, and considered her worried face. "I'm alright, Carol. But my jaw hurts like hell," he complained as he found it more painful when he spoke.

"Oh, that's my fault..." Summer's nose crinkled. "I kinda punched you."

"You what?" he turned to her, more curious than angry.

He saw her trying to suppress a giddy little laugh before answering rather smugly, "I told you I'll get even with you for this," she pointed at her knee. "Now, we're even." She winked.

"Ya lil devil," he snorted, despite himself. "An' just when I thought we've moved on."

"Well, what can I say? I can be sly..." she grinned. "But definitely, this time, we're moving on, okay?"

He scoffed. Carol beside him scoffed, but not in the similar manner. She was angry, almost livid. "I'll go get Hershel," she almost hissed. "He wanted to check up on you as soon as you woke up."

"Carol," Daryl caught her wrist. "I'm fine. Hershel can check up on me tomorrow. Let him sleep. And you should, too."

"But-" she started.

"No. I'm going back to sleep, so leave me be. I ain't gonna be babied. Carol, I'm fine," he insisted when she tried to open her mouth again. "I'll be fine. Just go get some rest. You and Summer."

After a defeated sigh, Carol stood. She knew better than to argue with him. "If that's what you want," she said, her voice still stiff with chagrin.

"Thank you, Carol," Daryl said, placing a gentle hand on hers. Her shoulders loosened then. She heaved a sigh and smiled at him weakly. "You sure you don't need anything?" she asked, calmer now.

"No, go sleep," he answered. "Both of you."

Carol nodded, then turned to Summer hesitantly, finding her sheepishly and apologetically smiling at her. Carol managed a small smile as well, then gently motioned her head towards their cell. Summer nodded. In passing, Daryl marveled at the way women can silently communicate...

"Daryl, I'm glad you're alright," Summer smiled at him as she stood.

"Yes, now leave me alone. I want to sleep," he answered, pulling his shirt down and pulling his sheets up to his chin.

"And the punch to the jaw was an accident... you know that, right?"

"Riight," he rolled his eyes and settled himself snuggly in his mattress.

"Goodnight," she murmured, her smile unfading, even as she turned and walked away.

"Goodnight..." he whispered in return, listening to her footsteps. When he was sure that he was finally left alone, he sighed, and lifting his fingers to his mouth, he brushed that small part on his lips that he was sure had touched hers.

* * *

_**I hope you don't mind very much that Summer just called our badass hero, Princess Redneck XD**_


	10. Deer In The Headlights

_**Author's Note:**__ I apologize for the long delay. And for those who already read the previous version of this chapter, I really apologize sincerely for taking it down and reposting it with modifications. I re-read it, and realized that I had puked all over it with the stress I've been under in the past 2 weeks XD HAHAHA. Forgiiive meeee..._

_Also, thank you so much for the favorites and the follows, and especially the cool reviews you guys had been giving this story :)) Really appreciate you taking time to let me know you enjoyed it :) You guys are awesome. I'll finish this story for you, so do not fret._

_and of course, to JazzyJane. You put up with me, and had faith in me... and so I trudged on... and wrote, and re-wrote. Thank you :)_

_So... here it is. Time to plant seeds and see how they grow into trees. I'm also playin' with some Rick on this one, so bear with me a lil, Daryl Dixon fans :)))_

* * *

**CHAPTER X**

**Deer In The Headlights**

* * *

Never in her life had Summer felt that way about a kiss. Technically, it was only a little peck on the lips, in that little sand of time, but nothing before it could even hold a candle to that kiss. It was... it was just... Wow. She was born to feel Daryl's lips on hers. She knew, because in that one special moment when their lips touched, everything just felt perfectly right.

That stolen kiss. That one-sided kiss. That kiss where the other party was comatose with a concussion. It just felt right.

And just like a crazy fairy tale, Daryl even woke up to her kiss. Okay. The uppercut helped. It was a kiss-and uppercut combo, and it was nothing short of magical.

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_

And just like in the fairy tales, the chimes of the clock are now striking twelve, and the spell is coming apart like a fading dream. Bang! She was now back in her shabby garb, back in the filthy prison, back in the world where the dead are walking.

_Bang!_

Summer jolted awake.

Those weren't the chimes of the clock striking twelve. Those were gunshots.

She heaved herself quickly to her feet. There was a lingering warm flutter in her chest... and at the moment, it was making it hard for her to think.

But soon, she felt the familiar rush of adrenalin in her bloodstream, and her mind snapped into survival mode.

She cussed silently when she realized for the first time since she was in that prison, that she didn't even have a weapon on her. The thick walls, the company of people, and the fluffy and the warm had all lulled her into a dangerous sense of security...

But no matter. Her senses were already sharpening. And her hands were already hauling the little corner table and smashing it against the wall. She wrenched a leg off of it, and now she had a weapon. And having a weapon in her hand made her feel oddly comfortable. _Just like old times._

She steadied her breathing, and training her eyes and ears to her surroundings, she made her way out of her cell...

* * *

_Bang!_ Carl put down another walker.

"Well, I destroyed your table for nothing," Summer muttered apologetically beside Rick. She was quite relieved and amazed to find everything more than under control.

"Glad to see you can improvise on a weapon when you need one," Rick told her, eyeing the splintered bludgeon in her hand.

Apparently, last night, some few walkers found their way in from a collapsed part of the outer fence. However, as Rick had explained to her, every time they clear out a section, they secure it, and make sure there were enough barricades to keep walkers out from the group's living areas. So now, these trespassing geeks were trapped in just one section of the courtyard and were easy pickings for Carl, who was getting his first target practice with the rifle.

"Brilliant," Summer praised the whole set-up, but Rick seemed too absorbed in his own thoughts to have heard her. He had this troubled look on his face that Summer had been increasingly noticing about him.

It must have been hard for Rick, taking on the weight as one responsible for the lives of many. She genuinely admired Rick and this group. She admired how they had worked together to survive and provide a safe place for themselves. Looking at Rick, though, she wondered just how much a man could take.

"You've done really well for yourselves," she voiced out, and heard him sigh at that.

"Not well enough," he returned, his voice low and a little tense. "It wasn't enough," he said."There were things we could've done better; I could've done better."

Summer shook her head once. He was being too hard on himself, but she could somehow understand. She wished herself to change many things on that day her cousin died.

"You've kept them alive... that counts for something," she said.

He heaved a slow, heavy breath. "Not everyone," he said. "We've lost people. A good many. Good people, friends, family..." he paused, his jaws tightening.

Summer chewed on her lip as she looked up his darkening face. He had this faraway look on his face. A look of hopeless longing.

"Your wife...?" she added softly. She really didn't mean to pry, but she felt like he wanted to talk about it. "What was her name?" she whispered the question, trying to tread lightly.

"Lori..." whispered Rick. His face contorted as he spoke her name with such yearning, that Summer couldn't doubt the love he had for his wife.

_Love._

Then it dawned on her. Summer was looking straight at the face of a man who dared love even when the world had gone to shit. _This is what it looked like. Love in the middle of this hell._

And then Rick told her about how Carl had to put his own mother down after giving birth to his baby sister, and Summer couldn't do anything but clasp her hand to her mouth.

"Fuck," Summer choked. "Fuck, that's not fair, Rick. That's just not fair or right," she didn't know what else to say. Rick felt guilty for what happened. It was painted all over his face.

"I'm so sorry," she said, hesitantly placing her hand on his tense arm, and fleetingly wondering why she even thought that would comfort him. She hated it when she was powerless to change anything.

"I'm so sorry for Lori... You fought hard... and you're still fighting, Rick. For Carl, and your baby girl..."

At the mention of his children, Summer slowly felt the tension leave him. He leveled his breathing, pressing his fingers on his eyes and the bridge of his nose. He nodded, then collecting himself, stood up straight. And just like that, Summer saw him transform back into this man who knew it was his job to keep things together.

"We should get you a real weapon..." he told her, effectively changing the subject.

Summer blinked and nodded dumbly. "Right," she said, her heart a potpourri of emotions.

_Bang!_ Carl shot the last walker down with a headshot right between the eyes. Summer smiled at the young boy as he started walking up towards them with a proud grin. She found her heart going out to him. He had done something a child should never have to do, and he weathered through it.

"Awesome job," she flicked his nose playfully. "You're a better shot than I am," and she wasn't lying. Rick gave him his approval as well, having not wasted a single bullet on a missed shot.

"Summer, have you told my dad you know where to find more baby milk?" The boy had that tone in him that he uses when he wanted to sound like an adult.

"I was just about to tell him," Summer smiled at him.

* * *

Summer had a lot of things in her mind. She mulled over her conversation with Rick, and feared for her own heart. As she walked back in the cell block and glimpsed the sleeping Daryl, the unmistakable gravity that pulled her to him, was ever so present. She tried to forget the fact that she won't be able to be around him for long, and that just made the fever of want, burn stronger.

_God, she wouldn't know how she'd be able to leave him... but eventually, she would have to. It had been decided long ago. She'll just have to worry about that when the time came._

As it were, she already had a lot of things to worry about. For how the hell does one walk around with a fluttering heart in the middle of all this chaos? And with Carol looking at her like that, she was really drawing a blank, feeling like a deer in the headlights, dumb with love and clueless as to what to do with it.

Summer raised her hand and waved at Carol awkwardly, but the other woman just pursed her lips in a terse, little smile and turned away.

_Carol._ Carol with big, beautiful, blue eyes, and gentle, comforting hands... now looked at her with guarded glances, sometimes cold, and sometimes hurt, and with her fists now closed. Carol, who without a doubt, loved this same, dangerously attractive redneck, else, she wouldn't have had reacted the way she did when she saw her steal that kiss from him last night. Carol, who wanted to murder her for that kiss... and perhaps, rightly so. Because she was Carol... who Daryl openly regarded with quiet attention, who Daryl probably had feelings for... who Daryl probably loved back in the same quiet way she loved him.

_Damn. Damn. Damn._

"Summer, are you listening?" Rick's voice snapped her back to still another issue at hand. They've been at it for a while now, discussing how to get to the bounty of baby milk near the shopping mall.

"Y-yeah..." she blinked, turning back to their little huddle around the table.

"It's such a dumb idea... and I think you're crazy," Glenn called her out again on what he insists is her questionable mental acuity.

Summer groaned. "I know it sounds dumb, but that's how I did it last time. Look," she pointed at the drawing she scrawled on the table. "As long as we get past this area, we'll be fine."

Glenn cringed, remembering how thick the crowd of walkers was on that parking lot. "And you suggest we just run?"

"Fast." Summer shrugged. "Throw a distraction, run the other direction."

"Or cover ourselves in walker guts," mused Rick.

"Kittens and puppies..." Glenn winced. "It's Atlanta all over again." That didn't make sense to Summer, but the two men fell silent with screwed up faces as if recalling a shady memory.

"I can really just go on my own, you know," she proposed, sensing their misgivings. "I know exactly where to go, and even if I get bit or scratched-"

"That's not even an option," cut in Rick, rubbing his forehead. His eyes fell on Summer's knee as she shifted her weight for comfort. "And you'll need at least another day or two for that..." he pointed at her injury. "We'll go as soon as you heal well enough to run. And don't argue," Rick held up his hand when Summer opened her mouth to protest.

"Daryl won't be happy about this," Glenn warned.

"Speaking of Daryl," Rick turned to Summer. "Knowing him, he'll try to go about his business as usual even with his concussion."

"Won't surprise me," Summer huffed.

"We can't have him do that," Rick said. "We're fortunate the injury's not too serious, but it's still a concussion, and he still needs to rest. He'll feel shitty, but he'll never admit to it. Summer... since you'll have to stay put yourself, why don't you keep him company for the most part, make sure he doesn't go up and about?"

"What, me? Keep Daryl company?" she blurted. _Is today Christmas?_

"I know, right?" Glenn looked positively sorry for her. "Good luck," he patted her shoulder. "Daryl's gonna be pissed when he learns we're planning on going back there. Do you even know what he called you when he first saw you running around that place like a maniac?"

Summer turned to Glenn, curious to know what the redneck's first impression on her was. "What?"

Glenn gave her a look, "A retard."

* * *

Her impossibly tempting redneck, with soft, electric lips was still asleep when she walked over to his mattress, and like always, she had to check herself to make sure the alleged, fever-induced horniness didn't subdue her and turn her into a mindless predator.

"Must be true..." she muttered as she sat herself by his side. "I must have gone fully retard, alright... being reduced to stealing a kiss from an ill-tempered, foul-mouthed redneck with a concussion. I mean look at you," she feigned a disgusted look and poked at his cheek. She snorted when he stayed unflinching. "You don't even look all that great, honestly," she snickered at her own lie. "When was the last time you even had a shower?" she tried for a more factual insult, realizing at the same time that even that added to his fuckin' sexiness... because damn it, if he needed a shower, she sure as hell wanted to be the one giving it to him; and she'd rip his clothes off, rip her own clothes off, and they'd step under the cascading sprays of water from Seventh Heaven, and she'd clean every inch of his...

_Retard._ His voice echoed the word in her thoughts, making her wince like a rebuked child, because she realized her brain had actually gone primal again. She inhaled sharply, trying to expel dirty thoughts...

_Dirty thoughts._ Daryl just had that weird effect on her. But at least now, she was keeping her hands to herself... and in a non-vulgar way.

"Hmmm... retard, huh?" she sighed, trying to focus her mind on other things. "Well," she mused, blowing a stray strand of hair off her face. "I think this retard did pretty well for herself out there, considering..." she trailed.

"After Joanne... I was alone and didn't know what to do with myself. I felt so wide open... so vulnerable, like my life just hung on a thread and I'm dangling over a cliff. I had to hold on to something stronger to survive. And I had nothing else in the world but my family... and the hope of seeing them again," she smiled wanly. "And I know it was strong enough, coz I'm still here. I got by... I kept those walkers off my hide for the most part, managed not to starve, and mostly, stayed sane," she chuckled softly. "Everyday was like being trapped in a really fucked up dream... and sometimes I was afraid I'd just snap. Plus, it was kinda depressing hearing only my own voice for God knows how long... I've never been brave on my own for this long, you know..." she fell silent.

"Daryl?" she leaned closer to his ear. "Truth is... I'm really glad you found me..."

He stirred.

* * *

When Daryl realized he had woken up to Summer at his bedside, muttering some nonsense about his personal hygiene, he didn't know that his heart could do a somersault and feel offended all at the same time. And for some reason, his first instinct was to keep his pretense of sleep (which was really becoming a habit as of late), probably because he still wasn't sure how to act around her.

He soaked in her every word when she started talking about how she had survived on her own. He couldn't help but admire her. She had strength. She had tenacity. And she just had this air around her that he supposed just generally made people want to protect her. It was probably the very reason him and Glenn had even risked their own skins trying to save her. And probably the reason he now wished that she never had to go through being on her own again...

_There's just something about her..._

And it was driving him mad because she intended to leave... to subject herself to a noble insanity and cross a whole fuckin' country for something that, heaven forbid, probably didn't even exist anymore.

She didn't belong out there on her own. She belonged right by his side where he could protect her. _Hah. Big words for someone too chicken to even open his eyes and actually start talkin' to her!_

_Daryl Dixon, a grown man, nervous and mute before a girl._ He could only groan inwardly.

But, God, was this woman being unfair. _Oh, hell, she's unfair_. How could she just barge into people's hearts like that... draw them in with her warmth and reckless charms, tell them they're like onions and Planet Saturn, tell them they're beautiful and worth knowing... come to them in the middle of the night and tease them with the faintest taste of her sweet and tender lips... and then just fuckin' disappear and leave them hanging?! She really was the she-devil incarnate, cruel and clueless that the feather-like touch of her lips was enough to drive any man crazy.

_What the hell was he supposed to do with her? He was drawing a blank, feeling like a deer in the headlights, dumb with.. with... dare he say it? Love._

_Shit._

_Fuckin' shit, he's in-love..._

Was he really? How would he even know that? _Damn it, what else could it be?!_ His heart was about to fuckin' burst from his chest, and he didn't even know what to call it! But whatever this was that was going on inside him, he sure as hell knew jack shit about what to do with it.

_Summer..._

Of course, she'd have to pick that moment to lean down and carry the sweet sound of his name on her lips in a whisper, and tell him, with her breath hot against his ear, I'm really glad you found me...

Cruel.

And he couldn't help it when he trembled.


	11. The Crowded Room of Just Two

_**Author's Note: **__A filler chapter. Hope you guys don't mind that I'm taking this REALLY slow... :)_

_Oh, and this chapter is non-beta'd XD I fear our awesome beta-reader is still under the weather :(((((_

_And so if this chapter actually ended up messy, I wouldn't know... XD haha.. ha.. Don't hesitate to lemme know how this worked out for ya :))_

_With that being said, let us now plant seeds..._

* * *

**CHAPTER XI**

**The Crowded Room of Just Two**

* * *

"Dixon, it's Dixon, dammit!" Daryl groaned.

Hershel had been drilling him with dumb questions to make sure he didn't have amnesia. And Summer had been snorting laughter throughout the whole interview. Not that he didn't love the sound of her laugh, he did. It floated in the air like bright, melodic pulses of life, her little snorts as she tried to suppress them, were even fuckin' adorable.

He just wasn't keen about the idea of her laughing _at_ him. It flustered him, and like many other complicated emotions he wasn't comfortable with, this here translated itself well into anger, as it bubbled up to the surface. He glared at her direction when she laughed a little harder. Oh, but he should have known better, that with her twisted ways, this even fueled her amusement.

_"Sorry,"_ she mouthed silently, but she evidently wasn't.

"Daryl, you're having trouble concentrating..." observed Hershel. "Did you hear-"

"Jesus Christ! Am thirty-seven!" Daryl spat. "An' I ain't brain-damaged if that's what yah worried for!"

He halted his planned tirade, because at the moment, Summer had suddenly become dreadfully silent. Daryl stole a discreet-enough glance at her direction and found her staring at the ceiling, with soft lips pursed to the side. He had always wondered how she'd react when she found out how old he really was...

_What, was thirty-seven too old for her?_ He found himself strangely distraught.

He didn't know she laughed because he acted just how she'd predicted he would when Hershel started asking the questions. He didn't know she laughed harder because she realized she didn't even know his last name until he spat it out in frustration. He didn't know she fell silent because her brain had already automatically paired her name with his, and that she was dumbly repeating the result in her head, not even paying attention to thirty-seven.

_Shit_. Daryl's heart sank when he saw her shoulders slump and her smile whither into a frown.

He didn't know she did this because she realized she was decidedly _screwed_. She was remembering that she had no business falling in-love during these times, but that she was helplessly falling for it anyway. Her recent conversation with Rick made sure this thought ate at her.

But Daryl didn't know this. All he saw was that she was even lovelier in the light of day, and that every little expression she made had an effect on him. Dear God, he was just so drawn to her... And Hershel just had to go and treat him like an invalid in front of her, telling him he was to be bed-ridden for the rest of the day.

"M' fine," Daryl huffed. His feeble pride was on the line, and he tried to prove his words by standing up. It was such a sudden motion that he found himself swaying on his feet and getting dizzy. The damn light was even making him blind.

"I got you, I got you, you stubborn redneck," Summer's body was suddenly against his, clinging onto him, supporting him with her meager hundred or so pounds. He loved being against her body... but this was kind of sad and pathetic. Unwittingly, he pushed her away from him, and felt shitty when she landed flat on her ass. She got up quickly on her feet, though, and as if by reflex, pushed him back so hard that he staggered and fell on his mattress.

"He started it..." Summer muttered defensively when Hershel gave them both a disapproving grunt, and pressed his temple as if he'd just gotten a headache.

In the end, although feeling a little miserable, and slightly irritated, Daryl resigned to staying in bed, just so he could appease the mob ganging up on him. He did feel a little lightheaded, and a good rest may not be a bad idea. They even helped him move to a cell where it was darker, on account of the harsh light bothering him.

He thought that he was going to be left alone in peace and a whole day of boredom, but as it turned out, Hershel had left Summer behind, and now it was just him and her in that suddenly crowded room of just the two of them, and he wouldn't deny that inwardly, he was actually slaphappy about it.

She stood there, in the middle of the room, and now he had become more achingly aware that she had swapped her T-shirt for a tank top, which wasn't at all tight or revealing, but still hugged the sweet dips and curves of her breasts and her little waist. His favorite part about it was that it bared her shapely arms and shoulders to him... He could just barely make out the faint dusting of freckles on her sun-kissed shoulders, and it made him want to run his hands all over them.

"Get comfy, I'll go get us some breakfast," she said brightly, and he had to look up a bit, to meet her eyes, which made him aware that the trajectory of his gaze a few seconds ago, had been a few inches too low for modesty. She turned around and he found his gaze helplessly descending down her body once more, following the sway of her hips, and appreciating her ass as she left the room.

"Jesus, Dixon..." he muttered to himself when she left him to breathe and gather his wits. He blamed it on the concussion.

* * *

"Here you go. Oats cooked to perfection," she handed him a bowl and plunked down on the bunk by his feet. "I asked Oscar if he could get us some wood so we could whittle bolts for your crossbow."

"Ya know how to make arrows?" he asked, interestedly.

"No, not really," she admitted. "But you can teach me," she said, her enthusiasm making him want to smile. He found that there were moments like this with her that were just light and casual and sweetly comfortable.

"Or we can do something else you like that doesn't involve you getting out of this bed," she said casually before digging into her oats.

_Something he mighty well likes... that don't involve gittin' outta this bed..._ She didn't even know how that suggestion sounded like to him, how that brewed something warm between his hips. How that chased the light and casual away. He cleared his throat again and turned to his breakfast.

* * *

It was oddly comfortable being alone with Daryl. Given their short, tumultuous history together, she thought he'd have an aversion to her being this close to him. But he was actually being nice and friendly, in his own Daryl way, and that warmed her smile and made her plain oats taste better.

It didn't take too long for her to have trouble concentrating on her food, though, as she found her eyes always gravitating towards parts of his body that she had no business checking out over breakfast. And every time his spoon disappeared into his mouth, she swallowed so she didn't drool like an imbecile. Because, _damn_, did he have a sexy mouth. And she wanted to kiss those lips again... and this time, properly... and thoroughly...

She cleared her throat, because _goddamn_, his eyes were just so irresistibly blue under those narrow lids, and they're watching her watch him as she mused on impure thoughts.

"So, where did you live... before all this?" she gestured, deciding for a conversation. A simple, guileless, and non-intrusive conversation.

"Up north," he answered, and she waited for him to expound. "Good ol' Cedartown," he paused. "Don't suppose ya ever had your ass up there," he gave her a smug, half-smirk.

The name of the place sounded familiar and she mused on this for some time. And then it clicked, and she chuckled, remembering how the place was as redneck as any place could be.

"Actually... not five years ago, me and Hudson went on this roadtrip. He's a big hiking and trekking junkie, and I was more of a history and culture person, see. And that one year, we uhm, we were following the Trail of Tears..." she paused, gauging his reaction to see if it was okay to continue. "Well, I was into the Cherokee Indians that time... and Cedartown was one of the places we planned on visiting, although, we ended up just actually passing through it." she crinkled her nose, then smiled up at him. "So, as a matter of fact, I had been to Cedartown, Georgia, thank you very much... on the wheels of my car."

"Smart ya never left your car," he said jokingly.

She grinned. "Ah, Hudson worried about me being too attached to the place, especially when we found out you guys had a secret society of nudists," she laughed, remembering that she and her twin actually had that conversation. Daryl snorted over his food, but then fell silent again. He took in another spoonful and winced ever so lightly, cupping his jaw and moving it side to side. Summer felt a tinge of guilt knowing she caused that discomfort.

"Still feeling my wrath there?" she frowned, her voice, apologetic despite her words.

He did a smug little snort. "Don't be so full o' yourself. Ya punch like a lil pussy... g-girl," he quipped, and she scoffed at that, but let it pass without sassing back, even when her mind had already formed the words, _And you eat like a retard_... as soon as she noticed the careless dribble of oats on his scruff.

Instead, without even thinking, she crawled over him and reached out to wipe the side of his mouth with her finger, like it was the most natural thing to do.

* * *

His mind was on this Hudson she kept mentioning, when he suddenly found her on all fours on top of him. He stiffened, her face just inches from his, and all other thoughts left him. With Summer, Daryl never knew what he was going to get. And so, when she reached out her hand to his face, he had almost grabbed her by the waist with the intention of pulling her body to his. He had thought she was going to kiss him.

But then she was gone as quickly as she came, and he almost whined. And now, he watched as she slid her finger into her mouth, licking the food that was just on his face. He swallowed thickly, and on its own nature, his tongue flicked out to wet his lips.

She looked like she didn't even realize what she did, and what that did to him. She kept prattling about this Hudson, and he tried to peel his eyes away from softly parting lips, wondering if he was going to get through the day without doing something stupid.

She asked him random questions after that, waving her spoon around, tilting her head, crinkling her nose, smiling, laughing, eyes always on him, drowning him... She commanded his attention, and dear Lord, did he want to ask her questions like she was asking him now. He was curious before, but now it was almost unbearable not knowing. He wanted to know everything. How was life like for her when the world was still right? What were the things she liked doing? How did she feel about hunting? But asking questions just wasn't his thing... He was an observer.

"Daryl?" her voice was now small and somewhat hesitant.

"What?"

"Can I ask you something more... personal?" She peered up at him with that timid but determined look on her face. He knew that look. It was the one she'd use when she was about to say something a normal person wouldn't. But he couldn't help it, he wanted to know what was going on in that brain of hers.

"Fine," he braced himself, even putting down his bowl on his lap for safe measure.

Summer swallowed. "Well... I just wanted to know if you and..."

* * *

She didn't get to finish her question, because Carol was suddenly at the doorway, casting a shadow over the room.

"Hey... I'll be changing your bandages..." her words were directed to Daryl, deliberately avoiding looking at Summer. She noticed the unfinished food on his lap. "Were you still eating? I could just come back later," she said.

"Naw, it's alright," said Daryl, motioning for her to come in, and setting the bowl to his side.

At first, Carol just stood there awkwardly in the middle of the room, not knowing where to place herself. Aside from the double bunk, the room was fairly empty, and there was nowhere for her to sit down.

"Here..." Summer slid off the bed to give Carol room beside Daryl. She was still trying to figure out how to deal with Carol, but being civil towards her was definitely part of the deal.

"Thanks," said Carol, moving around Summer and taking her place on the bunk. Summer leaned against the wall, and watched the two of them silently. _They looked comfortable with each other... familiar, even..._ and it made Summer wonder about the two of them, made her burn with the question she was going to ask him...

* * *

Carol slowly unwound the old bandages from his head, and cleaned the wound. Daryl looked at this woman now, her big blue eyes as gentle as he had always known them. She had constantly shown him kindness, and he knew the things that had hurt her. He even knew the things that made her smile. Actually, he even understood that Carol wanted more from him than he could ever give her. The small jokes she'd make, the looks she'd sometimes throw at him...

But he also knew that Carol would never ask of it from him. Not directly, at least. He knew this because they were of the same broken mold, a mold that made cowards who never attempt to ask for what they wanted, especially if it was love they wanted. Carol. He's comfortable with Carol just like this... as friends, and nothing more.

"There, all done," said Carol as she secured the wrappings. Daryl nodded his thanks and expected her to stand. But instead, Carol placed a gentle hand on his and leaned in to kiss his forehead. He started, but Carol didn't relent. The kiss she gave him was a lingering one. The change in Carol's touch alarmed him, especially when she squeezed his hand before she finally stood to leave. In the background, he could hear Summer choking.

"I'll come back later to see how you're doing," Carol said as she was at the door, then turning to Summer, said, "Hershel wants me to ask you if you'll need help to take out your stitches."

"No... no thanks, I can do it myself," Summer barely said the words without stammering.

"Alright. And Rick wants me to lend you this," Carol reached behind her jeans and yanked out a .40 caliber semi-automatic pistol. "For tomorrow..." she said, handing her the gun. "I hope your injuries patch up soon so you get to do the things you wanna do... I know how much you don't like being stuck in a room," Carol added.

"No.. I.." Summer grasped for words, as she glanced at Daryl, who had that unamused, questioning look on his face. "I really don't mind being here, Carol," she stated. "And thanks for the gun." She weighed the pistol in her hand, and tucked it in her boot.

Daryl waited for Carol to leave the room before he asked.

"They ask you to babysit me?" His voice was both incredulous and pissed. "That why ya here, bein' nice an' shit?"

"No, it's not like that, Daryl," she quickly reasoned. "Rick asked me-"

"Just go! I ain't goin nowhere, so leave me be. I don't need you here," he said, gesturing expressively with his hands. "I ain't a fuckin' child."

Summer sighed. "Yes, I can see that all too clearly," she said, staring him straight in the eyes. "You're not a child, and neither am I. It's not like I'm doing this because I don't have a choice, you know. If you still haven't figured it out, I actually enjoy your company and chose to be here with you. Does it make you uncomfortable that I actually like spending time with you?"

He gave her no answer to that. Just felt shitty about it, that he had lashed at her because of his insecurities.

"You'll have to kick me out of this room if you really want me to leave," she smiled wanly as she walked towards the bed and sat herself on on it, resolutely locking her eyes with his.

He wasn't about to do that to her, but there was something else he wanted to ask, "What's goin on tomorrow? What do ya need the gun for?"

"Ah..."

* * *

She told him about the planned raid, and as Glenn had predicted, he wasn't happy about it. She had to listen to him insult her sanity in the colorful redneck vernacular. She actually didn't mind, though. She found that she was enjoying listening to the lilt of his voice, and the interesting phrases he's coming up with... _smart as bait, clusterfuck princess..._

"Suicidal bitch..." he concluded, muttering over his bowl of oatmeal, scraping at it angrily. "Dumbest idea since California..."

She closed her eyes and breathed, trying to expel the ringing in her ears. "Don't call me that," she warned, her voice clipped and low. It was the first time she had snapped back at him since he started his diatribe.

"What, suicidal bitch?" he repeated, his drawl, heavy and sarcastic.

She winced. "I'm warning you..." she raised her spoon threateningly.

* * *

He was irritated when he found out that the only reason she was staying put with him was because she was resting up to recover faster so she can get herself killed. And so he did what he did best, he lashed out at her, and now she had a spoon raised against his throat.

She actually blanched then reddened when he spat the words at her. He repeated the phrase again, the jackass that he was. In truth, he just wanted to see he didn't imagine the way she had reacted to the phrase. This was new to him. She had been mad before... but this time, she was livid, but she tried desperately to rein it in.

"Fuck you," she choked. "You don't know anything about me!" her teeth gritted. Her eyes stormed and he looked straight at them, feeling her unravel a part of herself before him. He tried to reach out his hand to calm her, but she retreated. "You don't know anything..." she whispered, looking away. "Just... don't call me that," she pinched the bride of her nose and slumped back, leaning her head against the bedpost.

"Just... Bad memories," she murmured almost too softly for him to hear.

_Bad memories_.

"Never again," he promised. "An' am sorry," he muttered sincerely, wanting to ask her about it. _Bad memories? Who was the fucker that gave her bad memories?_ He wanted to know. But he was feeling like a jackass himself, and he wasn't sure how to ask... And there it was again, the urge to want to protect her... but being able to do nothing about it.

"Jeez... did I just try to attack you with a spoon?" she glanced at him tentatively, then shook her head at herself.

"I deserved that," he returned.

"Yeah, well... " she muttered sheepishly. "It's just a major pet peeve..." she paused. "But I'm trying to get better at it." she bit her lip.

"Ain't gonna happen again," he assured her, and she smiled wanly at him.

"Thanks."

"But Daryl?" she said after a while, "don't try to stop me from going back out there to help Rick get milk for his baby. You may think I'm stupid and helpless and all that, but I do know what I'm doing, despite how I look. And I really want to do this... for Rick, for Little Ass Kicker, for all you guys. It's the least I can do, really..."

Daryl sighed, still having major qualms about the raid.

"Don't worry, I didn't survive this long just out of pure luck. Have a little more faith in me." She sported a smirk that would have made anyone bet on her.


	12. Love Kinda Makes You Dumb

**_A/N:_**_ Delays are caused by life. Sorry guys. I'm really trying!_

* * *

**CHAPTER XII**

**Love Kinda Makes You Dumb**

* * *

_Chunky salsa._

When Summer's laugh came out, it was almost maniacal. She didn't even think it was weird that she could still joke about her current crisis, and what she pictured her future self was going to look like. She'd lost it. If there was any person in the world who was most certified to be poster child for_ Love Makes You Dumb_, it had got to be her.

Yessir, leave it to her to bungle up a plan that had been smooth sailin' like an oil-welled machine, the three of them flawlessly executing the plan, even Rick had that smug look on his face that said, _I feel like Chuck Norris right now_. And Glenn didn't seem to think it was such a dumb idea anymore, looking like he was even enjoying himself, even speaking in army lingo. "I got your six." he'd say, and Summer would answer. "Copy. Stay frosty," smirk, then cock her head to wherever direction she was leading them next. This was brought on by their nerdy conversation in the car about random war movies they've seen centuries ago, picking through each one for creative ideas on how to carry out raids.

So what happened? how did it come to this? How did she find herself alone, standing atop the remains of a school bus, surrounded by the countless undead trying to scramble their way up to get at her.

Two quivers of shiny, new arrows and a bottle of whiskey. That's what happened. She couldn't resist them. They screamed _Daryl Dixon_, and her hands itched as soon as she eyed them in the passenger seat of that lovely, blue Pontiac.

_The perfect peace offerings... all bundled up together... like a miracle._

It only took her two seconds of hesitation before she skidded to a halt and ran back for them, but by the time she had hauled them out of the smashed window (there was no use trying to drive that car), pandemonium had already descended upon her.

And so, in the current state of affairs, Summer now wished she had made the most out of it when the heavens had blessed her with a whole day of Daryl Dixon on a bed. She should have just went for it, seized the day, as it were, threw caution out the window, tackled him right there and then, and held onto him for dear life, like how every bit of her being cried out for her to do. But no, she had her issues and went bipolar on him.

He even kissed her, goddammit. Daryl Dixon kissed her, for crying out loud! And what did she do? She fuckin' cried and walked out on him. Yes, that's what she did. Told him she'd vomit in his mouth if he tried kissing her again. First class fuck job. As Sergeant Hartman would rightly be screaming at her face right now, "What the fuck, is your major malfunction?!"

God, she just didn't expect him to kiss her! She expected him to punch her in the face, and punch the redneck fever out of her system! Imagine her heart attack when he kissed her, and actually asked her to stay. Goddamn, that was some crazy shit, and she is totally aware that she had been cussing like a truck driver ever since that incident. She was over-thinking everything. Carol, California, her unfortunate streak of psycho lovers, her irrational fear of serial killers..._Damn,_ and her brain was effectively malfunctioning on her. Daryl fucking Dixon had rendered her completely retarded, a whimpering fool, ever wet between the legs and bat shit scared about it.

_God be merciful. _She had always been screwy when it came to relationship matters. That was probably why her last boyfriend, what was his name, Jake, was even anxious to put a bullet between her eyes as soon as she got bit. The bastard. The psycho hippie bastard.

But this was Daryl Dixon she was dealing with right now, the only existence in the entire history of the universe who had ever made her heart thump so crazy, she thought she was going to die from it, and die from it in a euphoric explosion of heart-shaped confetti.

Rick had to tell her practicably too late: _Don't waste a second of what you have left._ Thank you for that Rick.

_Life is too short. _Yes, thank you, Rick.

_Too short. _Yes, very insightful.

And with approximately a few minutes left in hers, if she didn't find a way to unfuck her current situation. It was a simple getaway plan. She was the bait, the _distraction, _because she was the fastest, even considerably faster than Glenn. Only now, she was going to be dead bait, resembling chunky salsa... and not the confetti she was hoping her exit from life was going to be.

"Summer, we're at your extraction point, do you copy?" The radio attached to the strap of her backpack, gave her Glenn's voice.

She leaned over her radio and responded, "I may as well have a dick, Glenn..." _Haha. That just came out of her mouth. _She grunted as she kicked on another rotting head and whacked on the one next to it with her tomahawk.

"What the fuck, over?" asked Glenn. "Where are you? We can't spot you. We can't see anything from here. You have to hurry. We have geeks on our tail." Static.

"Uhhh..." she responded, finding it hard to explain the situation. "I can't."

"What do you mean you can't?! Get your ass over here!"

She surveyed her surroundings, while at the same time, sweating it up to keep walkers at bay. Her heart dropped as another horde made its appearance, deliberately shambling towards her general direction. "Give me three minutes!... Five! Where are all these walkers coming from?!" she yelled at her radio. It wasn't all that bad, really. All she needed was a miracle...

"How are you doing?"

"Yeah! I'm having the fucking time of my life, Glenn!" she yelled while side-kicking a fetid flesh-eater off the hull of the bus.

"The mother of all herds is coming our way, and I'm not kidding! It's coming up the road, and will be on our ass in a few minutes, Summer we have to go, NOW! Where on earth are you?!" Static.

"I'm trying!" she answered. She flung her tomahawk across a growling geek, pulled out her gun and started shooting. She found her possible escape, and without wasting a breath, she slid down the bus and made a run for it. She scuttled, and ducked, and jumped, violating the brains out of every walker who stood in her way, until finally, she reached the bend that would shortly lead her to the blessed extraction point.

She stopped dead on her tracks, and even slipped on her bum at the sudden halt, metal bolts rattling in the quivers slung on her back. In front of her, blocking her route to the car that would whisk her out to safety, was a wall of the ugliest walkers she had ever seen, Glenn's rambling on her radio, effectively drawing all their attention to her. She shot three of them before they could even more forwards. Then, _click, click, click._ She had just ran out of ammo.

This time, a frustrated whimper escaped her throat as she shakily scrambled to her feet and lurched herself away from clawing arms, running all the way back on top of the school bus, which was the only place of refuge for her at the moment. She was exhausted, and it didn't help that the humidity in Georgia was so disgusting.

White noise came from her radio.

"I can't... I can't get to you right now!" she panted over the radio. "Do you hear me? Just get yourselves out of the way from that herd!" She squashed a hand with her boot, and shook another hand that latched on her other ankle. There was only white noise on Glenn and Rick's end.

She looked up the building the bus was parked against, and wished she had the ability of a flea, so she could jump to that rooftop where the only danger was the searing heat of the Georgian sun, and her unending thoughts about the sexiest unshowered man on earth.

Looking to her right, she spotted a drain pipe attached to the wall, that could lead her up to it. She'd need to jump for it with a running start, but she could make it. Probably. She wasn't even listening to Rick and Glenn on the radio anymore. Walkers were on the bus now, and she had already sprinted and pushed herself to a jump and grabbed onto that pipe for dear life. She slipped, and boy, was that pipe scalding hot, but she managed to haul herself up quickly and steadily, until she was sure the hands trying to grab her from below couldn't get a single scratch on her.

"Glenn? Rick?" she murmured over the radio. Nothing. She heaved herself upwards, her hands clutching on the latches that screwed the pipes to the wall. She climbed.

"-mer, Summer. Please, answer," her radio cackled after a while.

She reached for it carefully. "Glenn! Are you safe?! Is Rick safe? Did you guys get out alright?!"

"We're supposed to be asking you that! We had to drive away. Sorry. We can't get to you right now. But we're safe. We'll have to wait it out. It's like the Exodus out here. Are you unhurt? Tell me you're out of harm's way."

"Yeah... yeah. Thanks. I'm safe... at the rooftop," she half-lied. She was almost to the rooftop. "Drive back to the prison as soon as you can, get that formula to Judith. I'll use my old car when I can. It's still parked around this area..." she said and heard a dreadful screech from above her.

"No way. We can't do that. We can't leave you there alone," Glenn argued.

"I'm much safer right now than you guys. You can't stay on the road. I'm really going to be fine," she tried to convince herself too. "I'll wait this out and be back before you miss me," she chuckled, trying to lighten them up. "I'll keep radio-ing in, so don't worry." She released the button as soon as she heard the screech again, and this time, followed by a groan, and she could swear she felt the drain pipe lean to its left.

_You have got to be kidding me!_

She gasped. The drain pipe was ripping itself off the wall, the rusty screws giving way under her weight. She scrambled upwards, but before she could reach the top, she found herself hanging onto a tilted pipe that was ready to snap and deliver her to hungry walkers down below. She reached a hand towards the ledge of the rooftop, but her arm was a few feet too short. She laughed. There was only one thing to do now. She waited until Glenn's rambling died out from her radio, then she pressed on the button.

"Hey... just in case I don't make it back... would you tell Daryl... would you please tell him that I-" _Screeeeeech!_

* * *

_Flashback to yesterday..._

He found that being around her was increasingly addicting, and it made his lips curl up in the corners into little, uncontrollable smiles. She looked so unbelievably cute stickin' her tongue out like that, concentratin' on gettin' that piece of wood whittled to the way he'd taught her to.

_Holy flying fuck... did he just use the word cute? God forbid that ever comes out of his mouth. If Merle found out about it, he'd say his balls had fallen off and he'd grown himself a pussy._

"I usually use superglue to seal my wounds when I'm on the run," she murmured, her head still buried in her work. When she told him to have a little more faith in her, there was this one memory of her that made him believe she was hard as nails. It was that moment when they first met, when she had blood all over her body, and she was stitching herself up. And now she was saying superglue. He'd bet his ass, if she was born a redneck, she'd use duct tape to dress them wounds.

He cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Mmhm, closes so much faster..." she said, flashing him a half-smile. He shook his head at her in good humor. "How's this?" she held out to him a bolt she had tipped. He reached for it, and as he yanked the piece of wood from her hand, she yelped and hissed, and retracted her hand sharply. She scowled as she inspected what he supposed was a splintered finger.

"Shit, I'm sorry! Is it still in there?" He scrambled to get by her side. As it were, he's really good at sticking sharp objects into her._ That didn't sound right._

"Don't press on it!" he swatted her good hand away when she tried to squeeze the splinter out. "Here, lemme git that for ya..." he grabbed her hand, and without missing a beat, guided her tortured finger between his lips and into his mouth.

* * *

Summer had melted and had gone to heaven. _Sweet baby Jesus..._

Was she dreaming? Was this really happening? All Summer could think of at that moment was his heavenly tongue, that was gently, purposefully, swirling around her finger, trying to feel for that splinter. She shuddered, feeling the familiar electricity slowly sweep through her body, her heart rate picking up as she watched him make her finger shift slightly and disappear between soft, slender lips.

_Who knew such a small act could be so hot? Enough to make her want to rip her pants off? Relax, Summer. He's just trying to help you get the splinter out... with his mouth... and..._

His tongue... Heavens, above... his tongue, gloriously warm, and wet and velvety, applying just the right amount of pressure, because he didn't want to hurt her.

_Gentle. Mmmm... So he could be gentle too... Now, that's a nice surprise..._

_Holy cow, he just groaned._

And it vibrated all throughout her body, making her lady parts tingle. He had found the sharp chip of wood embedded under her skin. She felt him prod on it, making her flinch involuntarily.

"Keep still," he rasped, blowing hot breaths against her skin. He tightened his grip on her hand, and closed his lips around the sore digit once more. Then... and then... he began to suck at it lightly, making her catch her breath, making her forget how to breathe altogether, making her want to moan... But of course, that would be a little creepy...

He started sucking a little harder, trying to draw the splinter out. Her head spun. He was making that little finger an unbelievably erogenous zone, and everything he was doing right now carried that promise of how good of a kisser he was certainly bound to be. And_ God above_, it was taking all of her self-control to not pounce on him and confirm it.

"Daryl..." she whispered, but he was so focused in his task, there wasn't even the slightest pause in his ministrations. He was fluid. His teeth grazed on her skin so lightly, trapping the protruding fragment expertly, and slowly tugging at it, careful as to not break it. Summer felt the sting as the splinter slid off her finger, but it was only a fleeting sensation... quickly overcome by her hot desire to feel him, aka, _she was horny for him._

"Hmn," he smirked, holding a not-so-minuscule piece of sharp wood between his teeth, a look of triumph on his face. He spat it out to his side unceremoniously, and she never thought spitting could look so hot. Everything he did right now was so hot. He could recite the ABC, and she'd wet herself.

"Ain't that a bitch," he muttered before he turned to inspect the tiny cut from where he took it from. When he saw a small trickle of blood, he brought it to his lips once more and sucked at it lightly before hesitantly releasing his grip on her hand...

* * *

"That's how I always-" Daryl's words slowly died in his mouth, because by then, something was pressing on his lips.

"They're so soft..." he heard her mumble softly as she ran two fingers on them. Her eyes, if he's not imagining things, were zoomed in to where her fingers touched him, and the flush on her face was enough to send warmth between his hips. Her cheeks were the same hue as the time she turned over her shoulder to look at him while her ass was naked and those fingers were slick with her juice... the scent of which, he just couldn't get out of his mind, however hard he tried.

He swallowed roughly. Remembering how she looked like that day was already giving him a semi. He swallowed harder and stopped breathing as he watched her tongue sneak out between her lips to wet them. _Zen. He needed to be zen right now. Or the woman was going to kill him by givin' him chronic blue balls, and make 'em fall off of him._

* * *

_Fuck, she should stop this... she should run, run as far away from him as possible. she should run now before she starts humping his leg..._

_Shit, I want to hump your leg._

She was mortified at how her brain was working at the moment. She couldn't even stop her fingers from tracing his mouth.

His hand suddenly gripped her wrist and pushed her hand roughly away from his face. She snapped out of her daze. She blinked and her eyes focused on him. His eyes were shot wide in horror, and his mouth hung open then shut closed, then gaped open then shut closed, like he didn't know if he was going to shit or go blind. His face was blanched. Was it that horrifying for him to have his lips touched? _Quick, Summer, think of a witty excuse!_

"Hump his leg?" a child's voice, followed by a snort, came from behind her.

_"Curious Carl the Mind Reader!" _She whirled around and saw him standing by the doorway with Little Ass Kicker in his arms.

"Curious... Mind reader?" Carl wrinkled his nose at her.

"Did I just say that out loud?" she asked him in abject terror. The kid nodded his head. Her head whipped back to look at Daryl, whose face can't even be painted at the moment. Then she looked back at Carl. "And the thing about... th.. th-the... the leg humping...?" She wanted to cry. Again, Carl nodded. It felt like somebody just slapped her with an iceberg and punched her in the guts.

"Summer... are you feeling... horny?" Carl asked her slowly. He tilted his head like he was looking at someone crazy, but that he was also concerned.

_Rick told him it was a loop in the head! Horny is a loop in the head! Hallelujah!_

"H-horny? Y-yes," she stammered. "I mean, I was. Before. I mean... I wouldn't have said what I said about humping Daryl's leg if I wasn't horny..." She was having diarrhea of the mouth.

Daryl groaned beside her. She was afraid to look at him now. She could practically hear his teeth gritting and feel the thick tension in the air. He was probably trying his very best not to hit her right now or throw her out the door and into the Atlantic Ocean.

"I mean... crap, just please don't tell anybody..." she begged Carl.

"Okay..." said Carl, hesitantly. "As long as you're fine..." She nodded at that. "I just wanted you guys to know... we decided to name her Judith," he smiled proudly, rocking the little baby in his arms.

She heard it, and she knew she should be saying something, but she'd start crying if she did. Silence stretched out between the three of them. Carl looked at them with growing concern.

"T-that's a pretty name," Daryl croaked beside her.

"Thanks," smiled Carl, sighing relief. "Well... I gotta tell the others," he shrugged and gestured to turn around. His forehead creased as he shot a final glance at the odd couple, opened his mouth to say something, shook his head, then went away.

* * *

_**to be continued...**_


	13. The Tug of War of Hearts

_**Author's Note:** And we're back :)_

_Sorry guys! I know some of you are already tired of waiting for the romance to finally blossom between our two lovebirds, but here I am, just keeping on complicating the story, making it into a hot mess. Well... I can't help it T_T My brain works like this, and without my beta-reader, no one's gonna stop it from going to town with it with the weird plot developments. :D HAHAHA :D Well, I just decided to wing it, instead of waiting forever and not finishing the story :) Hope you still get to enjoy wherever this story will take us! _

* * *

**CHAPTER XIII**

**The Tug of War of Hearts**

* * *

The redneck approach to fixing things usually involves a shotgun or a roll of duct tape. The girl in front of him, currently in catatonic state, to his loose interpretation, needed some sort fixin' and no shotgun or duct tape was going to be of any help to him.

_And what on earth did she just say about wanting to hump his leg?_

"Climb up on my lap then, and hump me while I kiss ya..." was what he really wanted to say to that. That woulda been alpha as fuck, and that would've sent him straight to heaven if the word picture actually became a reality. He'd have his hands and mouth all over her and he'd make sure she'd enjoy every fuckin' moment of it. But as it were, Casanova here was still in some sort of dumb shock and was already about to explode in his pants. _I want to hump your leg_ was perpetually on repeat in his head.

And God's own truth, he was just about to go crazy not feeling that sweet, trembling mouth of hers on his. He was dying to feel her on top of him, against him, underneath him...

And although his rational mind told him it wasn't going to happen, his body was already moving all on its own. He was already leaning forward towards her, reaching out so he could run his fingers on her bare shoulders.

"Something's terribly wrong with me," she mumbled, her face buried in her hands. That made him pause his hand in mid-air and hesitate. "Fuck, what have you done to me?" she asked him in an accusing tone. "I'm never like this... I can't even think straight! I don't even know if you and Carol..." she hiccuped. "I mean, if you and Carol," she hiccuped again. "_...fuck_!" she cussed as she had trouble finishing her thoughts. She must have realized how that question ended up, coz now she looked more distressed than ever. She scrambled out of the bed and turned to make her escape.

"Summer, wait," he quickly grabbed her wrist just as she was about to take a step towards the door.

"Please, Daryl, I'm developing Tourettes!" She tried to twist her arm free, but his grip was firm. She halted, but kept her eyes at the doorway. There was a pause between them, so she pulled on her arm again, wanting to continue her exit. He held on steadfastly.

"No..." he answered, a short, long-delayed, breathy answer to the question that was bothering her earlier. "No..." he repeated, when he sensed she wasn't registering what he meant. "We ain't like that, me and Carol. We ain't together. We never hooked up. And no, we don't fuck. Never did," he wanted to make that clear to her. She stopped struggling, but still didn't turn around to face him. He took a deep breath then, released his grip on her wrist and slid his hand to hers, not missing how soft her skin felt against his.

He held her hand, the way he'd always wanted to, her fingers inside his, his thumb drawing lazy circles on the back of her palm. It made his chest tighten, made his stomach flutter, and even more so when her dainty fingers pressed on his in a knowing kind of way, telling him things more than words could ever say.

And it was at that precise moment, when her small hand was safely inside his, that everything felt right in his world... so right, that it was just wrong to let it go.

"Stay..." The word just came out of his mouth, like an overflow of everything going on inside him. She was silent, so he tried another approach.

"I won't mind it terribly if ya really wanna hump my leg." He felt a smile form on his lips as he was saying the words. But she still wasn't talking, and still wouldn't turn around to face him. "I'll take your silence for a yes?" he drawled, and felt her release the breath he didn't know she was holding in.

"No," she answered back, her voice clipped. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Baiting me with your sexy self! Using that sexy tone on me! It's not fair! I'll have to leave you eventually... you know this," she told him. "I'll break your heart, and I don't wanna do that," she whispered, almost to herself.

"I don't care," he said, then rising to his feet, he stood behind her, never letting go of her hand. "But you can _not _go. You can stay... Don't leave for California... Stay with me."

Silence.

He pulled on her hand firmly now so she twisted around and faced him.

"Stay..."

"Seriously?" She looked up at him with a tint of bitterness in her eyes. "Of all the things you could ask from me? You ask the one thing I could never do. I am not going to give up on _them_." She said resolutely, then moved her head aside to look somewhere else other than his face.

He prized her for this. For her stubbornness. For her stubborn love for family. For her stubborn hope. It's a good thing he could be stubborn as well.

He stepped into her space until both their bodies were at a breath's divide, achingly near, but not near enough to meld. She tried to twist free from his touch, as if she was afraid of getting scorched, but he could tell she was only trying half-heartedly, as both his hands found the length of her arms, and as he perused them, she sighed.

He could almost feel the war waging in her heart, feel the tugs of desire and reason and doubts battling it out inside of her. He stood there before her, waiting, just waiting, giving her time, not wanting to strangle her with his demands that he knew were heavy.

And as he watched her, he once again became aware of just how small she was, just how easily she could disappear inside his arms in an embrace... and how badly he wanted that to happen and so much more. At that moment, he decided he didn't give a flying fuck about anything else other than making her _want to stay_ with him. He'd be a mighty fool to let her go.

"Look at me, please?" To be honest, he was increasingly feeling like a bag of nerves with every second she refused to speak or look at him, but he knew what he wanted, and for the first time in a very long time, he was ready to gamble on it, fight for it, pursue it. "Please?"

He moved one hand up to brush her cheek, hoping his fingers don't suddenly fall off from the nerve-wrecking ordeal. _Damn. _She still wouldn't look at him. He ran both his hands the length of her arms again, caressing her shoulders, whispering her name. His heart drummed out of his chest. He really didn't have game when it came to wooing women. Hell, he never had to do this kind of thing, nor did he ever feel the inclination to do it. Until now. And at the moment he could only hope he was doing this right.

"You know what I'm about to say," he lips quivered slightly as she slowly arched her neck back to finally look into his eyes.

"But what if I can change your mind?" he asked, boring his gaze into hers. "If you stay..." he started, but didn't finish the sentence. Instead, with one hand pressed against the side of her neck, and fingers lacing through her tresses, he dove down and kissed her. A tender kiss. Lips gently colliding against soft, unsuspecting lips, pressing in gingerly to taste just a little more.

Just a taste. A fucking mere taste, and then he broke the kiss, the little sounds of lips parting, making him want to swoop down and take her mouth again.

_He had kissed her. And it felt amazing. And he wanted to do it again._

_And dammit, was he dying inside just tearing his mouth away from hers! But he had to make this work._

He watched her eyes gradually grow wide, watched as a blush slowly swept over her cheeks, watched her red, cherry lips part open as her jaw dropped.

He brushed the corner of her mouth with his thumb, then brushed her bottom lip, his eyes attentive to what he was touching.

"So stay..." he whispered. Then, raising her chin a little to him, he kissed her again, sending fire burning throughout his body, barely retraining himself from lifting her off the floor and pinning her against the wall. She gasped in his mouth and her hand found his chest, clinging on to his shirt with white knuckles. She tensed, but didn't push him away, nor did she pull him closer to her. She still wouldn't give in.

He licked her bottom lip, feeling her soften a little, and her eyes drifted closed, and her lips parted slightly to receive, but not exactly to kiss him back just yet. And that was when he retreated, just at that moment when he felt she was about to move her lips against his. _  
_

"So stay," he told her again, gasping for air with deep breaths. Her eyes fluttered open at the sound of his voice, stared at him with wide, searching eyes in one moment, in confusion the next, and finally, in fury. She let no words fall from her lips, and just glared at him, pursing her mouth in a straight line, refusing to answer.

Once more, locking his eyes resolutely with hers, he kissed her, his tongue sneaking out to coax her lips from the terse, unwelcoming demeanor she had on. Alternately, he placed tender kisses on the corners of her mouth, and whispered her name. She sighed, and he didn't miss the opportunity and pressed his lips fully against hers, gently sucking on her bottom lip, moving and gliding over her mouth, thoroughly enjoying her taste. Her lips molded perfectly against his.

Again, he pulled back just when she tried to press into the kiss in surrender, her eyes, snapping open as he distanced his face from hers. A whimper escaped her chest, which, as her eyes refocused, was quickly followed by a frustrated groan and the sound of gritting teeth.

"Stop it!" She slammed her fist against his chest. "I can't-" she started to speak, but he broke her off with another assault to her lips.

* * *

Her mind went completely blank once again as she felt his mouth on hers like a tidal wave, this time, as he kissed her more fully, more greedily. _God above, did he know how to kiss. _He kissed her in a way that made her feel wanted, worshiped. He savored her, pressing against her wantonly but not selfishly. He was gentle, yet severe. _And she wanted to... she wanted to..._

And she did, for there was nothing else to do but to kiss back, and hungrily, she did, and now he let her, making her moan in both satisfaction and growing need.

He tilted his head and guided her as he deepened the kiss, pushing her lips apart with his tongue. She opened up for him, feeling her knees tremble in anticipation as he teased her more before sliding his tongue into her yearning mouth. He stroked his tongue against hers, drawing little moans from her. And she loved the taste of him, loved the feel of his scruff against her skin, loved the way he moved his lips against hers, loved the heat that was spreading all throughout her body.

But then he pulled his head away from hers again. _Goddammit!_ Leaving her in want and needing more, making her vision swim. And now she also had a hot, growing desire to hit him in the nose and make him bleed.

He gazed down at her, cradling her head in his hands, searching her face. "Say you'll stay..." he drawled, his voice hoarse and hot.

_Stay._

_Maybe._

_No_.

She couldn't... she knew now that it wasn't really because she was scared she'd break his heart. No. She knew it was because it terrified her to choose him over _them_, over family, even when she wanted to... It terrified her because it was the unknown to her. Because it felt like she was jumping off an uncharted cliff and she'd have to trust that he'll be able to catch her... this man, this stranger of a man. And what if when he learned who she really was, he'd just let her fall, or worse, hate her?

_She was scared she'd get her heart broken._

"Shit," she heard him mutter softly, shakily, and his grip on her started to loosen. She didn't know when the tears started falling, but now they blurred her vision, and when she blinked them away, she saw how it was distressing him just to see her break down like that.

_Oh my God. She didn't just break down in front of him. This is too pathetic. She bet he could see through the psycho in her at the moment and was freaking out._

She pulled herself away from him, her heart dying in the process. She started running to the door, but he caught her hand again.

"Summer," his voice was filled with concern. With panic. She yelled at him and wrenched her hand away. She wasn't sure what she was yelling, but she was yelling at him. He finally let her go with an aghast look on his face. She didn't look back as she left him standing there alone in that room.

* * *

_"_She's still not talking to you, huh?" Glenn observed as he stood beside Daryl who was standing by the doorway, watching Rick and Summer load up the car. Summer had insisted that morning that they should go for the run to get milk for lil Judith coz she was sure a storm was coming in the next thirty-six hours. Something about _mackerel skies and mare's tails and the ring around the moon. _Daryl knew she was right, and wondered how in the world she knew anything about reading the weather.

"She don't even wanna be in the same room as me," Daryl confessed to the male beside him. "Won't even look at me," he was chafed, confused and angry, and his voice reflected it clearly. "Hell , she even told me she'd vomit on me if... damn fuck." He ran his fingers through his hair.

"What happened, anyway?" Glenn asked. "When she came stomping out of your room, she went straight out the gates and just slaughtered a whole lot of geeks non-stop for a couple hours. She threatened to eat Oscar alive if he tried to stop her. We were more than a little worried, but she did calm down a lot after that."

"She's that mad," Daryl mumbled. Glenn nodded beside him. "Like I fuckin' care," the redneck spat after a while, still watching her and Rick interact. "Look at 'er go all puppy eyes on officer Rick."

Glenn shot him a look, placed a hand on his shoulder and moved along towards the car to help load it up.

* * *

She knew she fucked up big time yesterday. God, she couldn't even look at Daryl now. She was too embarrassed, too scared to see what she would find written on his face. She spent the whole night mulling over this, over the events of yesterday, mulling over what to do about what she felt about him, even so now that she knew a little bit of what he felt about her. To stay away from his was the best course, make her heart as hard as stone and stop it from beating in the tune of a love-struck dame.

"Summer, are you sure you have your head together for this?" Rick asked her for the tenth time that morning. "I'm a little worried with you running off crazy like you did yesterday."

"Sorry," was the only thing Summer could answer to that. "Don't worry, I swear, I can do it."

"Carl was a little concerned, he told me something that happened in the cell," Rick raised an eyebrow at her, then quickly glancing at Daryl who was standing by the doorway some few meters away, then looking back at her questioningly.

"Fuck," she cussed, burying her face in her hand, massaging her temples, wanting to laugh and cry at the same time.

"Sorry..." came Carl's timid voice behind her. The kid just had the knack of sneaking up on her! "I was just worried... I don't want you to go if you weren't feeling... well."

Summer looked at the kid, his face apologetic, hands in his pockets and chewing on his lips. She softened instantly, and with a sigh and a gentle smile, she said, "C'mere." Carl tentatively stepped closer towards her, and she placed a hand on his shoulder. "Thanks for lookin' out for me," she told him with a wider smile.

"You're not angry?"

She shook her head.

"So... you're alright now? You're not feeling horny anymore?"

"Oh, child," she smiled at him, trying not to laugh. "No, but thanks for asking," she snorted, making Rick snort beside her.

Carl frowned. "I still don't understand why that's funny," he complained.

"Your dad will explain it to you," said Summer.

"No. No, I'm not," Rick contradicted.

"Then, shall I explain it to him, Rick?" she muttered seriously beside the former deputy, trying to threaten him as a jest.

"Oh please, be my guest," he muttered back. "I dread to give him the talk." He clapped her shoulder and dared her with a raised brow. She just laughed, and made a show of doing so. She walked over beside Carl and draped her arm over his shoulder, cupping his ear with her hand, and whispered to him.

The kid flushed all shades of red, and Summer watched Rick's amused smile turn into panic as he quickly strode towards them and yanked her off his child.

_Ah, she had always been a troublemaker, and she couldn't help it when an opportunity was right before her._

"What did you tell him?!" Rick growled, but she still could not stop chortling. "Carl, what did she tell you?" he turned to his son, whose mouth was gaping a little open.

"Nothing," Carl answered hastily, defensively. "I'm going inside," he said and quickly turned around and back looking flustered. "Be careful dad, Summer. Come back safe," he said then walked off.

"Summer?" Rick held both her shoulders with a look that said, I could really slap you right now.

"Okay, okay," she stopped laughing. "I promise, I didn't tell him anything inappropriate."

Rick narrowed his eyes, still waiting for an explanation why his son acted the way he did. "I..." she started, then murmuring, continued, "I just told him I... I can help him out with Beth." She pursed her smile, and mentally slapped herself for being such a jackass.

"God..." Rick whispered, stepping back and putting his hands on his hips. "Beth?" He was incredulous, as if the idea never occurred to him.

_Men._

"Really?" Rick asked again, and Summer just shrugged at him with wide eyes.

"Uhh... I guess you'll have to give him the talk anytime soon now, huh?" she snorted again as the dear father paced. He shot her a look and shook his head at her in disbelief.

And then, a question nagged at her. "Rick... can I ask you something?" Her voice came out timid. He gestured his hand to go ahead. "I know it was very hard for you... after Lori," she paused, "Would you let Carl fall in-love?" It was a weird question when it came out. "I mean... in this kind of world... with everything that's happened? Don't you think it's better not to love?"

Officer Rick looked up the sky then. "I don't have control over what Carl feels," was his answer. "But would I worry that he'd get hurt? That this fucked up world would take away from him those he loves, and rip his heart out?" he understood what she wanted to hear. Summer nodded. "Do you know what I regret the most about Lori?" he looked at her now. "It was that I thought trying to keep her alive and safe was enough. I should have showed her just how much I really loved her, every single day. I regret not telling her, wasting everyday worrying about things we don't have time to worry about. I shouldn't have wasted a day, Summer. We don't choose when or who we fall in-love with, and when Carl falls in-love, and I sure hope he does, someday... not today..."

"Of course.." Summer smiled.

"Well, he'll get hurt. It's part of it, one way or the other, but I sure hope he doesn't make the same mistakes I did." he said. "Life is too short," he muttered as an afterthought. "Too short to be doubting and hesitating."

Summer nodded thoughtfully.

Rick patted her head fondly, then left her to help Glenn with what he was carrying.

"Daryl's looking at you," he said when he reappeared a few seconds later. She jumped at that.

"Is he?" she asked. Rick nodded.

"Does look mad?"

"I'd say... just a bit, just foaming in the mouth mad," Rick's brows came together.

"Are we ready, guys?" Glenn interrupted them. He'd just finished saying goodbye to Maggie.

"Summer, we can wait if you wanna go and tell 'im something," Rick cocked his head to Daryl's direction. Summer turned her head slightly to spy on said redneck, but as she caught his sight, he was already turning away to go back inside the prison.

"No, no thanks," Summer told them, both men nodding at that. They buckled up, waved goodbye to their friends and drove off.

* * *

_What the hell. What was she being slap-happy around Rick for? _Daryl sat down by the table, slamming his fist on it once. _Shit. He's scared for her. Even with everything that's happened, he still didn't want her to go. He was afraid something might happen to her and he won't be there to get her out of trouble. _

He was still furious at her, for all her shit yesterday, for killing his ego altogether and shitting on his pride... but still... when he weighed things in his heart, _ego shouldn't matter much._

"Hey..." Carol's voice called out to him softly, and she stepped into the room with Judith in her arms. "You'll wake her," she said, but smiling at him.

"Sorry..."

"You look worried," she noticed.

"Nah, they'll be fine."

"You're worried for Summer," she wasn't asking, she was telling him she knew. "I thought you could convince her to not go. I even went through the trouble of making you angry about it yesterday, hoping you could convince her how foolish it was to go back there in her condition."

Daryl met Carol's eyes.

"It's not too late, they haven't gone yet," Carol said, glancing out the window.

"She ain't gonna change her mind," Daryl was convinced. "Believe me, I tried."

"She's something, isn't she?" Carol smiled sadly as she watched the car drive away.

"Yep," said Daryl. "Best just to let her go..."


	14. Odd Souls

_**Author's Note:**_ _And here we are again! __For those who like the sexytime to happen, there will be sexytime! :O But first, we have to make Daryl rescue our damsel in distress once again and let them make up and clear up misunderstandings._

_Aiayayyay!_

* * *

**CHAPTER XIV**

**Odd Souls**

* * *

He couldn't get enough of her. He knew he was bruising her lips, the way he was crashing his mouth against hers, the way he was drinking her in so passionately. His tongue stroked against hers, drawing out breathless moans from her, making him harder with every "mhhh" and every "ahhh!" she unabashedly let fall from her lips. He felt her squirm against him more, pressing her body into him, so he pushed her harder against the wall, thrusting his hips forward. His hands slid down to her sides, then cupped her unbelievably fine ass, squeezing them, and lifting her up from the floor. She took his hint and wrapped her legs around his hips, all the while without breaking their heated kiss.

She took his one hand from her ass and placed it on top her breast, guiding him as she fondled herself over his hand and through her shirt. He groaned hotly, feeling the soft mound that perfectly molded in his touch, feeling her nipple harden against his palm even through the fabric. She wasn't wearing a bra. He could tell right away, and that just made him want to rip her shirt off of her as soon as possible. And so, trapping her body against the wall, he pulled her shirt off her, tossing it to the side like some offending object. As soon as she was naked, his eyes instantly traveled up and down her torso.

_Fuck. She's perfect._

Her bare chest lay before him now, heaving. Her small, pert breasts, round and perfect. He knew exactly what he wanted to do with them, and didn't waste a heartbeat. He buried his face right in the middle of them, inhaling her scent, then planting little kisses on her unbelievably soft skin. His hand made it's journey, tracing the dips and curves of her side, then her stomach, then finally, her naked breast. She arched her back lovingly, pressing more into his hand, soft flesh spilling in between his fingers as he kneaded her. His tongue darted out and licked the base of the other breast, then licked around her small rosy nipple. He closed his lips around it and she hissed in breath when he sucked hard on it. She hung onto him, legs squeezing tighter around his hips, her hands grabbing fistfuls of his hair and pushing him more into her body. He nipped, licked, and sucked alternately, hungrily grabbing and squeezing...

"Daryl..." she moaned out his name in between gasps and groans. "Daryl..." she pleaded again, more urgently this time, and he understood. He looked into her eyes, dark and hazy, and kissed her full on the mouth. She unwrapped her legs from his hips and he set her down on the floor.

Without wasting a second their hands were instantly working on each other's buckles, buttons and zippers, discarding jeans and garments down their legs. He took a couple of seconds to drink in the sight of her stunning naked form, and when he saw her doing the same, her eyes hungrily roaming up and down his body, he couldn't help but smile.

"You're beautiful," he whispered as he took a step to close the space between them. She blushed beautifully, then reached out with her arms and pulled him down for another fervent kiss.

"Touch me," she implored breathlessly, a request he immediately complied to. His hands caressed her hips, then her thighs, pushing them apart, and he could feel the heat emanating from between her legs. It sent shivers of pleasure down his spine.

Swallowing hard, he ran two fingers over her clit, reveling at how wet she already was, how ready. He stroked her again, applying more pressure this time, making her cry out his name. She bucked her hips into his hand with every brush and flick he made, and he had to hold her hips steady with his other hand.

Staring into her eyes now, he watched her expression change as he slowly slid a finger into her. _God, was she beautiful, _with her red, burning lips forming a small "o", her cheeks flushing furiously, and dark eyes glassy with lust, staring straight at him. He pulled out slowly, watching her flutter her eyes closed, and drawing out a soft whine from her lips. He pushed into her again, making her head fall back this time. He felt her legs tremble. He didn't stop. He pumped in and out of her in a rhythm, and it drove him to the edge every time he felt her sugar walls squeeze around his digit like she was trying to keep him inside. He needed to be inside her...

He gasped in surprise when he felt her dainty fingers wrap around his shaft and tug at him.

"I need you..." she whispered, tugging, stroking the length of him, beckoning.

With a throaty groan, he pulled his finger out of her and brought it up to his face, licking it clean, enjoying her familiar, intoxicating smell. He placed a soft kiss on her lips, then easily lifted her up, settling her against the wall like before, her knees by his sides, his arms supporting her weight. Eyes locked onto each other, she reached down in between their bodies and guided his hard cock to her hot, soaking entrance. He watched her lick her lips and bite it down when the tip of his cock nudged her. She nodded at him meaningfully, and wrapped both her arms around his neck.

He swallowed hard and then pushed his hips forward, the head of his cock slipping into her. He pushed further, his thick length slowly sinking into sweet, wet tightness, hugging all around him. _Fuck, did she feel sooo good, so warm and so tight_, he had to concentrate so he didn't come right there and then_._

He waited a moment for her to adjust to his size, for her body to relax, and for himself to simmer down a little. He planted feather kisses on her face and neck, whispering her name over and over. She slowly opened her eyes then, found his mouth a breath away from hers, and kissed him. She relaxed, and her hips pushed against him, lodging him deeper inside her, making them both groan.

He pulled half-way out, then plunged into her again, pinning her against the wall. He paused a second, then repeated the same motion. She shifted, spreading her legs wider apart. He drove into her again, slipping easily into her tightness now. She was soaking wet. He started rocking his body against hers, pounding into her over and over, stroking her walls at an angle, going deeper every time, hitting her sweet spot. She easily found his rhythm and writhed and bucked against him in perfect time, adding to his pleasure and hers. But their pace was just maddeningly slow...

"Harder..." she groaned hotly now, and he need not be said twice, making her squeal as he pulled all the way out and plunged into her in one swift motion. He did it again, pulling all the way out and slamming into her, making her cry out and dig her nails into his shoulders.

"Fuck, yes! Like that... so good..." she unabashedly moaned out her approval with his every thrust. He quickened his pace, pushing into her to the hilt, feeling himself slowly reach dangerously close to his peak. She squeezed and fluttered around him, and it was really driving him to the edge.

"Come for me," he whispered hotly into her ear as he adjusted their bodies and hooked both her knees with his arms, spreading her farther apart, making her helplessly under his mercy. He kept his pace, grunting as he slipped in and out of her in quick thrusts, the slick friction her walls made around his length, delicious and heady. She was almost there, wildly squirming against him, wildly bucking her hips, loudly moaning and crying out his name. Their voiced echoed throughout the room, guttural groans and uninhibited moans and squeals, skin slapping against skin...

He slipped his tongue into her warm, open mouth, ravenously assaulting her lips. She kissed him back in the same fashion, biting down on his bottom lip, wrestling with his tongue, leaving both of them breathless.

He rammed into her repeatedly, adding a twist at the end. She fell apart then, bucking wildly against him, gushing all around him, her legs trembling, her walls squeezing him. He drank in her cries, made three quick thrusts and let himself go, coming hard deep inside her, filling her up.

"Summer..." he groaned out her name...

"Sorry... I can't stay..." she whispered back, seemingly from far away...

He woke up then, sweating profusely, breathing hard like he had just ran a marathon.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Daryl was gritting his teeth. _What in heaven's name was he just dreaming about?!_ His imagination had never ran this wild ever before. That was the most fuckin' vivid dream he'd ever had in his life.

"Shit!" he panicked when he found that he had indeed jizzed in his pants in his sleep. "What the fuck?! Goddammit! Goddammit, devil-woman! You're the death of me!" He scrambled off his mattress, and was just thankful that nobody was there in his room to witness this embarrassing episode. He stomped out of the cell, almost running into Carol.

"What happened? Where are you going?" she asked in a worried voice. He didn't even as much as pause or look at her, but continued walking away briskly.

"Hey," called Oscar when he almost ran into him too. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah, I just need a cold shower," he answered back, not halting his steps towards the communal showers. He stopped, looked back, and told Oscar, "Tell Axel, he best be finished fixing my bike by the time I'm done. Imma need it..."

* * *

"They'll be back before we know it," Hershel told Carl, who was looking off the horizon for any sign of his dad's return.

"I'm not worried," said Carl. "I know they'll be alright. They still have four hours of sunlight, they'll be back home in time with the supplies."

Hershel nodded at that, slightly impressed with how the boy was handling the situation.

"I'm worried for Axel, though." Carl's gaze went to Axel who was feverishly "trying" to fix Daryl's bike, while the owner of said bike towered over him, yelling and shoving him aside. They watched as Daryl snatched a screwdriver from Axel and stooped down to work on it himself. Hershel shook his head at this.

"It's not Axel's fault. I told him not to fix that bike until the raiding team comes back."

"Why?"

"Coz I figured Daryl will try to follow them."

"How did you know that?"

"Experience," said the old man. Carl looked at him thoughtfully, smiled, then went back to watching Daryl and Axel, and now with Carol joining them in the absurdity.

_"What are you doing?!"_ they could hear her raise her voice. _"You're supposed to be staying in bed!"_

"Everybody's been more... lively ever since Summer came along," observed Carl.

"Yes... she does seem to have that kind of effect on people," Hershel agreed thoughtfully.

_"For God's sakes! You are not going after them! You're the one who said it's best to let her go!" _they heard Carol argue.

_"And I did, didn't I? I let her go. Don't mean I can't follow 'er."_ answered Daryl in an equally heated voice.

"I kinda like it," confessed Carl, smiling sheepishly.

"Well, then let's just pray that they all come back safe and come back soon."

Carl nodded. "What are they arguing about anyway?"

Hershel shrugged to feign ignorance.

* * *

"Hey... just in case I don't make it back... would you tell Daryl... would you please tell him that I-" _Screeeeeech! _Summer's hand released on the button to hold onto that pipe for dear life.

"Oh, shit," she nervously muttered, straining her eyes around her for anything that could save her life. She tried to swivel the pipe closer to the wall. She heard the steel screech again, and at the last second, before it broke in two, she instinctively made a jump for the ledge, both arms outstretched to grab onto it. Her heart dropped then jumped to her throat as soon as her hands came away empty, gripping nothing but the air. Her eyes closed tight as she waited for that dreadful moment when her body connects to the ground below. _Chunky salsa._

"Help me..." she breathed out a final desperate plea.

A strong grip was suddenly around her arm, making her body swing and slam against something hard. She opened her eyes and found that it was not the ground but the red brick wall of the building. A force pulled her body up. At first she didn't understand what was happening... but then a voice called out to her...

"'Ah' Gotcha..." he said, lilting in an accent she had become very acquainted with in the last few days. She couldn't mistake his voice, and she couldn't believe how his very sound brought so much comfort to her heart.

She was still catching her breath, lifting her head up to see his face as he grunted and pulled her up, but the glare of the sun setting behind him whitewashed over his features and she was denied the sight of his face. _No matter, he's here. He's here. Unbelievably right on time, too, just like last time. Her saving grace. _

She wanted to shout his name, but found herself choked up with tears. _How is this even possible? How could he have found her here? How could he have followed her, even after everything that she did to him... how shitty she'd treated him? How psychotic she acted around him? _He finally pulled her over the ledge to safety, both of them collapsing on the rooftop floor, breathing heavily. She didn't waste a beat. With tears still streaming down her face, she threw herself on him, wrapped her arms around him and held him tight, hearing his heartbeat loud in her ears.

"You saved me..." she muttered, calming down a little, her breathing steadying, her head nuzzling into his chest.

A comfortable silence washed over them for a few moments, and then she heard him snort. "Uhh.. Not to burst your bubble there, shorty, but the hell do you think you're doing?"

She opened her eyes slowly then, trying to process his words, wondering why his voice sounded a little different just then, a little older, a little more sing-songy and sinister-sounding... like a complete stranger's. Her eyes suddenly snapped open in alarm when the man underneath her, the man engulfed in her embrace, started wheezing out laughter. Then, she saw right in front of her face, a long blade attached to a muscular arm by duct tape and steel.

"What- Oh my God! Your hand! What happened to your hand?!" she jumped off of him and she almost had a heart attack when she saw that the man she was crying over and wrapping her arms around on was definitely not Daryl Dixon. _How in heaven's name is this guy not Daryl? _This huge brute of a man, with tightly cropped hair, tired but vivd blue eyes, and a mean smile on his face is looking more and more unlike her favorite redneck. _How did she even mistake this man to be him?_

"Who... who the hell are _you_?!" she cried in panicked horror.

"Hey! You from the funny farm or somethin'? That how you people thank the good people who help you? he yelled back, dusting himself off as he picked himself up. "Pipe down! Holy flying turds, calm down! Hey, don't you point that thing at me," he warned when she pulled out an arrow and held it in front of herself defensively. He laughed. "You ain't serious. Think ya can defend yourself 'gainst me with that stupid bolt, Einstein?"

He then pulled out a gun and pointed it at her a little playfully. "What the hell is your problem anyway? Look here, if I ain't being delusional, I'd say, I'd just spared your hangin' pinata butt from crashing into that feeding frenzy down below! I'm your fuckin' hero."

"This is true..." she answered. "But... but I don't know if you just saved me for the supplies on my back... or something else."

"Well, you're smart for a little China girl, I'll give ya that," he grinned a crooked grin. "But I coulda just grabbed the bag and shook ya off of it," There was something playful in his voice, and a pinch of malicious in it too.

"Well, thanks for saving me..." she said, but still didn't lower her arrow. She knew she should be wary. The way he was being too attentive and on his toes like he was going to jump on her at any time made her nervous. If he was even a little on the defensive, or if he would have relaxed, she would have trusted him a little, but as things stand, he wasn't exactly giving off an air of a trustworthy person. "But you want something in return, right?"

"What, ain't it possible that I did it outta the goodness of my heart? Why do ya have to be so damn judgmental?" he faked a scowl, stepping closer towards her.

"Just being careful," she answered calmly, stepping backwards. "You understand, right? Many thieves and rapists out there nowadays, a girl's gotta watch out for herself."

"Ya talk like yah all alone against this shitty world... dontcha have others with ya?" he asked.

"Maybe," she answered after a pause, knowing she had to tread about this subject carefully. If she tells him she was alone, he might just immediately attack her, knowing nobody was going to come after her or rescue her. If she told him she had a group with her, he might attack her all the same and try force out information about their location. She made another step backwards, wanting to put as much distance between her and this stranger. "Are you going to let me go?" she asked.

"Maybe..." he grinned.

"You're not planning on raping me, are you?" she tried to stall him as she stepped another few steps backwards towards the only door on the rooftop.

"Rape you?! Fuck, no! You're the one who jumped me when we haven't even shook yet! I should be the one getting worried 'bout my virtue and all that shit. I ain't gonna lay a hand on ya for all the tea in China, Miss Yellow Cakes. You're not exactly my type, no offense."

"None taken," she snapped back quickly, curiously wondering if he was lying or if he really meant what he said.

"All I wanna know is where your Spic friends are hidin'." He cocked his gun and pointed it straight at her again.

"Spic?" she repeated.

"Hispanic!" he explained. She shook her heard, saying she still didn't understand. "Mexican! You got your stupid brain on, today?" he shot his eyes incredulously at her. "Are there more of you than who you brought here today?"

"What?" she asked in pure confusion. Rick doesn't even look Mexican.. and Glenn... Glenn can never pass as a Mexican even if he tried.

"It ain't gonna work on me, playin dumb like that, China."

"Okay, I'm not even from China, you asshole, and I don't know what you're talking about!"

Just then, a gunshot sounded from a distance, and another two answered it, effectively distracting this stranger enough for her to make a dash for it. She went straight to the stairwell door, unbarring the lock.

"Hey! Don't you dare open that door, you dumbass!" he yelled frantically, running after her.

But it was too late, she had swung it open in a desperate attempt to escape, spilling in walkers. She had hoped there won't be too many, that she'd be able to kill a couple and then head on down the stairs and let the walkers deal with this dangerous man. But no, of course it wouldn't be like that. There were walkers packed into that stairwell, pushing and spilling into the rooftop. She barely got out of there unscathed, ducking and crawling, running away from them and ended up running towards the stranger.

"Hell's fucking bells!" he exclaimed, quickly retreating away from the crowd of undead that she had just foolishly unleashed. "You just got ourselves killed, you fucking dumbass!"

"Well you shouldn't have scared the shit out of me! What are you doing?! Shoot! You're the one with the gun!"

"Well, I ain't got no bullets left, if you must know!" he answered. They were side by side now, killing the faster ones, him with his knife on his severed hand, and her with the bolts.

"Are you serious right now?!" She shot him a look. He shrugged with a quirk in the corner of his mouth, then plunged his knife-hand through a walker's skull behind her.

"Why the hell did ya have to open that fuckin' door when I told ya not to?!" They scrambled away from the door as more stepped off from the stairwell. "I can just throw you at them, that'll distract them for a while, maybe I can make my escape then."

"Well, why haven't you already?" She taunted him. He didn't answer, but kept by her side, stabbing walker heads and letting them fall by his feet.

"We have to get behind that door," he said and led the way. It took a while and a lot of close calls, but they eventually thinned the crowd enough for them to go back to the door, both of them pushing it closed, trying to pin the walkers who were still trying to come in.

"Keep pushing!" he ordered her as he kept the walkers off their hair and killed the ones who were blocking the door. He kicked the one who fell by the door, and kicked another away, and with a final heave, Summer successfully slammed the door closed. The stranger quickly barred it and then helped her kill the last one who was able to come through.

Breathless and covered in sweat and walker guts, they both just stood there for a while, surrounded by the dead who were finally stiff as they should be.

"Holy fucking shit! You almost got me killed!" He fisted the collar of her shirt and yelled at her face like he wanted to punch her, or in this instance, slice her with that knife-hand of his. He stared her down, then shoved her aside disgustedly. "Give me your bag," he ordered, and when she didn't move, yanked it off of her even when she resisted. He opened it and went through its contents, stopping only when he found the bottle of whiskey she was looking forward to give to Daryl.

"Hey, that's mine!" she retorted.

He pushed her aside easily, walked over to the corner free of carcasses and sat there, gulping down the whiskey from the bottle. "Awfully nice of you to share."

She wanted to give that to Daryl...

"Why in Sam's Hill are you even carryin' those arrows for, hm? That how you use bolts in your country? Ever heard of a crossbow where you come from?"

"They're not mine..." she decided to answer. "They're my _friend's. _Or at least I was planning on giving them to this friend of mine..." She sat down some distance from him against the ledge.

The one-handed stranger chortled unamusedly, taking another sip on the quickly-disappearing liquid in his hand. "Your friend, huh? And who might this friend o'yers be? One of 'em Spics who shot at me and my men? Psh. Killed two of ours too." He spat.

"I don't know what you're talking about..."

"Oh? So... who's your friend then?" he asked, shaking the bottle at her.

She smiled sadly, bit her lip and thought about telling him or not telling him. She looked at this man, this odd soul, and decided he's probably not as evil as she was making him out to be... but still, she knew he still wasn't a safe person...

"My fiend's name is..." she started, still deciding whether she should lie or not...

* * *

**_Yay! Merle is here! =3_**


End file.

Walking Dead, Humor, Romance